


The Hate Between Us

by darthpiggo



Category: Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018), Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Character Development, Dark Comedy, Enemies to Lovers, Espionage, F/M, Femme Fatale, Forbidden Love, Graphic Description, Hate to Love, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I wrote this instead of studying, Kylo Ren Angst, Kylo Ren Being a Little Shit, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Kylo Ren is toxic, Love Triangles, Love/Hate, Multi, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot, Professor Kylo Ren, Reader-Insert, Secrets, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:28:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 44,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26270410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthpiggo/pseuds/darthpiggo
Summary: "Don't move, or this blade goes straight through your heart!"An unexpected visit from a femme fatale causes abrupt changes in your lifestyle. Some of them include; hiding a dark secret and going against your own morals. Otherwise, you will lose everything.In addition, Murphy's Law puts a cherry on top of your life.You suspect your psychology professor, Kylo Ren, of being responsible for a horrific incident that gives you no peace. In order to discover the unknown truth, you secretly launch an investigation.Each step is a missing puzzle piece that lures you closer to your professor and the forbidden riddle. If you're not careful, there will be consequences.Torn between good and evil, right and wrong, you learn to understand that playing a deadly game without lies is like playing chess without chess pieces. Impossible.Will you win, or will you lose?****** ! PLEASE read at your OWN RISK ! (18+,dark themes, etc.)* This is a long, modern work with a lot of plot that develops slowly throughout the story!* Also available on Wattpad!
Relationships: Ben Solo & Reader, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren & You, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Original Female Character(s), Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Reader, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/You, Ben Solo/You, Kylo Ren & Reader, Kylo Ren & You, Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Comments: 34
Kudos: 57





	1. Rain in Heaven

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [the heartbreak prince](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21796579) by [diasterisms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/diasterisms/pseuds/diasterisms). 
  * Inspired by [Hurt Me Harder](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22075762) by [trisswrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trisswrites/pseuds/trisswrites). 
  * Inspired by [These Violent Delights](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20841314) by [Lunaxxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunaxxx/pseuds/Lunaxxx). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, you might wanna listen to the songs for a better experience ;)

The fresh blood from the corpse leaked out like the warm filling of a delicious piece of French chocolate fondant.

How can we tell from the outside if a human is dead?

Well, it is indeed quite similar to a body that is in a sleeping position. Only the heart stops beating, and the lungs stop inhaling oxygen. The kidneys, stomach, and intestines stop working, so the whole body shuts down.

The lifeless human eyes were wide open, pupils fully dilated, staring into the distant nothingness.

They say before you die, you see a short movie of your life flashing before your eyes until you see a shining light that guides your soul to the unknown paradise. Oh, what a wonderful dream.

No one is prepared to see a corpse for the first time. Everybody reacts differently when that moment comes.

Some people let out an accidental or unwanted scream. Others start laughing or crying. No one can control what helps them to cooperate with this situation.

"Damn it, I liked this carpet. Too bad, we have to get rid of it."

Only psychopaths would react that way if they had a dead body lying by their feet. Right?

* * *

**_ A few months before. . . _ **

[Song: Blue World - Mac Miller (Slowed + Reverb)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5vHtx6DocS0)

...

You wore headphones when Mac Miller's (rip) song popped up on your playlist at full volume when you got off the bus at 7:40 am.

We do live in a mad blue world _._

What is going through people's minds when they wander the streets alone? How can people listen to music and not feel like they are in a movie?

You wished to have the chance to let your soul sing through the whole city loudly like that time you were alone at home singing in the shower.

But society would never acknowledge that.

People are shaped like rectangles with only one way to think. Either you are drunk, homeless, and need money, or you want attention. Why else would you sing in the streets all alone by yourself?

You had arrived at the gothic, grey building and looked up into the sky.

The black spires made the constructions look more appealing, and the windows with the pointed arches let the sun fill the rooms with light. Between the left and right buildings was a skyway bridge with large glass windows connected to the first floors.

The first day of school always feels like going into a new year.

During your summer holidays, you had prepared your little glow up. You took more care of yourself by buying overpriced skincare products and way too many decoration lights for your room. New faces, new stories, and new adventures would happen in your final year and hopefully without unnecessary drama.

The drama would only be the star on your Christmas tree that you seriously wanted to avoid. The first and last day of school were your favorites, and this year you knew you would cry.

You took a deep breath while you held tight against the straps of your black vintage backpack and passed under the skyway bridge with the flying buttresses.

Walking under them scared you in the belief that one day they would fall on you, and you would die alone without having the chance to say goodbye to the people you love.

Especially in winter, when the days get longer and darker by at least 4:00 pm, the building looks abandoned and spooky. It would suit as a great place to celebrate Halloween. The school reminded you of Hogwarts, but without the magic.

In 1890, the Catholic school got founded in Germany by The Nightsisters. They were a religious congregation, who were primarily engaged in teaching and educating younger girls. Later, when Mr. Yoda became Headmaster in 1950 after World War II, every teenager was allowed to attend this school. However, like Mr. Yoda, the building grew older and more fragile.

Being a senior did not make you feel any different than being a junior, except you were about to turn 19. You knew when you would reach that age, your pimples wouldn't automatically disappear. However, somewhere deep down in your inner self, you felt like your final year would surprise you with a special gift you would never forget.

The first thing your body needed to stabilize the energy and get through the day was nothing else than coffee.

The way through the flying buttress led you to the school's small cafeteria. Every time you walked in was like entering for the first time a bakery that had baked fresh, tasty croissants and cinnamon rolls.

God, you loved that smell. It made you feel secure like you were in heaven.

Walking through the cafeteria was like walking on a catwalk. On the left and right side, students were sitting around the blank tables with their stereotypical uniforms. The colors of the uniforms were a mixture of dark blue and white. The students were laughing, gossiping, and hugging each other after being separated for 11 weeks. Behind them on the wall hung paintings of various famous bakers. Some other students were waiting for their friends to enter class together.

However, nobody waited for you.

With your morning resting bitch face, you looked like you had a sign hanging on you that stated, "Do not touch or talk to me while I am listening to music."

As you approached a line, you raged in disbelief how there were still so many people at 07:50 am. You starred from afar at the showcase, which was filled with tasty pastries. You inhaled the smell of the warm cinnamon rolls like they were melting on your tongue. With your music still on the high volume, you heard nothing that was happening around you.

You uncrossed and recrossed one leg while impatiently waiting for your turn. You fell into deep thoughts and imagined what types of new students sat in your class.

Suddenly you felt soft yet large fingers touching your right shoulder.

Unpleasantly with half-closed eyes, you turned around and saw a big, firm man standing in front of you.

He was wearing a dark blue sweater with a velvet navy blue blazer, like the student's blazers and black jeans that were not too tight.

It took you a moment to realize his head was sitting much higher on his shoulders. His wavy black hair looked like he recently came from the hair salon, which had the same length as his neck. They shimmered in the bright light and brought out some of the colors of the blazer.

So much to that hanging sign.

The man was new here because never in your life have you seen such a masculine and, at the same time striking face, that fitted together so well as if it were a Picasso piece of art. His brown hazel eyes reminded you of a beautiful forest at daylight in a cold October. The way he looked at you gave you goosebumps all over your back. His height made you feel like you were looking at the Eiffel tower. His full lips moved, slowly like he was trying to say something, but all you heard was Jaymes Young screaming in your ear.

[Song: Don't You Know - Jaymes Young (edited audio)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ySqtXSiFDFg)

...

"I wonder how's the weather up there."

This sentence was the only thing you brought out of your mouth when you quickly pulled your black headphones out of your ears as they dropped to the floor.

As you bend down to pick them up, you realized these words escaped your mouth in a loud and clear tone.

_Fucking hell._

You stood up and gave him a silly laugh.

"Sorry, were you standing in line?"

You scratched your neck and hoped he would ignore your stupid embarrassment to make it less awkward for you.

You could tell from his look that he was not exactly the kind of person who liked to smile at people. Or, in that case, to smile at all. He looked serious, with his giant eyes as if you murdered his puppy. Not a single facial muscle moved except his jaw tensed, and his lips parted gently.

"Thank you for asking," he responded smoothly. "The weather up here is fine."

His little smile looked real as if he would laugh with you. He had an incredibly dark voice that was automatically stored inside your brain. He stopped for a moment and scanned you with his eyes from head to toe. Suddenly his smile faded, and his face became stoic.

"Are you wearing a hat indoors because you expect it to start raining?"

What sounded lovely in the beginning quickly changed. The man's tone switched so fast, you didn't even understand he was only being sarcastic.

Now he sounded frozen and harsh as if he were a car that had hit you. However, you couldn't blame him. Probably this question haunted him like a shadow since he was born.

"No, I wear the hat because I like it, and it shows who I am," you replied defensively.

With his iron expression, he lifted his head, eyes to the front, and put on a dominant smirk.

"Alright, little witch."

Your jaw dropped, and before you wanted to speak up, the line disintegrated, and it was your turn to order your coffee.

You let out a short deep breath as you turned around and greeted the old lady ahead of you.

"Hi, Maz, nice to see you. How was your summer?" you asked with a sweet voice. "Can I please have a large latte?"

Maz Kanata was the owner of the school cafeteria. She was a nice old lady who spoke her mind and loved children more than herself but was sadly unable to have her own. She has been knowing you since the first day of your first year. Every morning you asked her for a nice cup of hot chocolate and a cinnamon roll.

In your opinion, nobody baked them better than Maz.

"Hello, my dear, it was terrible. Are you sure you do not want a cup of hot chocolate and a cinnamon roll? You used to beg me to bake them when they ran out."

You could swear that you heard a dry and muted laugh from behind, followed by the sentence, "That's not even real coffee."

You took a deep breath and ignored the man's unnecessary comment.

"I know, I know, time flies, but only the coffee, please."

You smiled at her with a sad look as if you had told your grandmother that you're not hungry after she cooked you a whole 3-course meal.

"Alright, here is your coffee. Careful, the cup is hot," she warned.

_Well, not as hot as the man behind me._

Gently Maz avoided burning herself and handed the cup to you over the counter.

Carefully you took the cup, thanked her, and wished her a nice day. As you turned around, the tall man was gone, and you were more than relieved. After that short and awkward conversation, if you could call it like that, you hoped not to cross his sight again. You did not want to embarrass yourself a second time.

He probably loved his coffee strong and black, like his hair color.

You climbed the stairs and walked to the big entrance door. It was shaped like a pointed arch. You glanced up and noticed how the stone statues of the Nightsisters stared at you from high above.

People used to believe the Nightsisters protected the school from bad omens. If one of the sisters would ever fall, it would indicate that danger was on the way. Every candlelight in the school would have to be enlightened, and every window closed. Apparently, this would defend the holly school from the evil spirits.

You were sure that nothing could top what just happened. But the universe had other plans in mind when you saw Finn from the other side of the entrance hall running towards you like a wild horse that has torn itself from the reins.

 _Please, please, please, don't knock over my coffee like last time. I haven't sipped it yet_ was your thought when you heard Finn screaming your nickname throughout the whole school.

"Chipmunk! I didn't see you in ages!"

The fact that you were shopping together only yesterday made you feel quite questionable. Finn had bought new brown boots that resembled Mr. Hux's black ones. As he hugged you tightly, you could smell his strong Bleu de Chanel cologne like he showered in it.

"Oh my god, Finn, can you imagine? We saw each other yesterday."

Hopefully, the sarcasm in your tone was convincing enough to make him understand that your day started out great.

"Oh, you're being ironic. It's a beautiful Monday morning on a delightful September, and you're already so annoyed? What's wrong?"

"Ugh, I already embarrassed myself in the cafeteria in front of a tall guy. And with the way, he looked at me? The last time someone gave me this look was Mr. Hux when I accidentally stepped on his black leather boots. In the same place, by the way."

"That wasn't an accident. You stepped at Mr. Hux's expensive boots on purpose for giving you a 5.8 in -"

"Does it matter?" you interrupted him so he would stop reminding you of your miserable failure.

"Listen to me," Finn said in a supportable way. He put his hands on your shoulders and stared with his brown eyes deep into your inner being.

"Don't let this ruin your first day. It can happen to anyone. You need to keep a calm head when things like that happen. Besides, the worst thing that can happen to you this year is not finding a partner for prom."

A little grin appeared on your lips as he finished his motivational speech. Finn always knew how to cheer you up.

"You mean, like you?" you responded in a mocking tone and cracked a smile.

Finn let go of you and rolled his eyes. Gently he tapped your nose with his index finger and smiled.

"Don't worry about me, I will find a partner for prom. By the way, the hat looks ... good."

You thanked him, and Finn took out his phone.

"Come, we're already late for class," he said uptightly."

Finn put his left arm around your shoulder, and the two of you quickly made your way to the classroom, which was unfortunately on the 3rd floor. On the way, he told you how he noticed some girls in the schoolyard checking him out. It was hard to deny that he was indeed a real eye-catcher.

"If there is one thing I have not missed about this school, then it's these god damn stairs. Feels like I'm going to heaven. I really need to work out more. I'm already sweating."

"Come on, Finn. More walking, less talking," you said with a heavy breath. "Only five steps left. Look, the door to the classroom is still open."

When you finally reached the door of your classroom with shaky legs and sweat as if you had run 10 km without taking a break, both of you burst out in a laugh because of the exhaustion. When you leaned against the door, you choked on your laughter immediately as you recognized the dark blue tint of clothes.

Your forehead wrinkles were visible, already feeling the need to get Botox. You pressed your lips together, and with your eyes broad open, you began to blink rapidly in wonder.

The man you recently saw in the cafeteria stood there with his left hand in his pocket and a sheet of paper in his right hand. Suddenly he had glasses on that he did not wear before. Probably to read better. He noticed you and turned his face towards you.

If looks could kill, you and Finn would be dead by now. It was clear the man was about to kick you both out of class for being late.

There was only one sentence floating in your head, and this time you knew you would say it out loud.

"No, Finn, we are not in heaven. We are in hell."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there, and welcome to my first story :)
> 
> Thank you for reading the first chapter!
> 
> [Y/N], so YOU live in Germany. I'm quickly going to explain some information's I took from Google that I feel like you need to know, so we're on the same page :)
> 
> In German schools, there are 13 grades instead of 12 (the reason why she turns 19) and only then does the university begin (Abitur). The schools separate different levels. The last year in the (Gymnasiale Oberstufe)("old" High School), prepares the students for higher education at a university.
> 
> Here a quick example:
> 
> University / Abitur:  
> 20 years / ...
> 
> "Upper Secondary School Classes" / ("old" High School) (Gymnasiale Oberstufe):  
> 19 years / Senior / 13th Grade  
> 18 years / Junior / 12th Grade  
> 17 years / Sophomore(first-year) / 11th Grade
> 
> "young" High School/ (Gymnasium):  
> Between 5th Grade and 10th Grade (11 - 16 years)
> 
> ALSO
> 
> German Grade/ Grade Definition/ US grade:
> 
> 1 -1.5/(Very Good)/(A+) - (A-)
> 
> 1.6 – 2.5(Good)/ (B+) - (B-)
> 
> 2.6 – 3.5/ (Satisfying)/ (C+) - (C-)
> 
> 3.6 – 4.9/ (Sufficient)/ (D+) - (D-)
> 
> 5.0 – 6.0/ (Insufficient) F
> 
> \----------------------------
> 
> \- The legal drinking age in Germany is 16, though kids must wait until they're 18 to drink spirits.
> 
> \- 16 to 18 yrs: You can go out legally up to midnight, then you have to be out of the venue (so says the law)  
> \- 18 yrs upwards: No restrictions. These are the legal situations. Though all bigger clubs have doormen, so if you're wrong dressed or look too drunk, they won't let you in. Also, some clubs are 21+ only because they have negative experiences with younger ages.
> 
> \- The ground floor is not numbered. It is at a ground level. The 1st floor is one floor above ground level (one flight of steps), the 2nd floor is the next one above (two flights), and so on.
> 
> ENJOY THE STORY!!!


	2. Collided Spells

Finn glanced at you and scratched the scalp of his jet-black hair. He didn't understand your remark while you observed the other students in front of you. They stood motionless like statues next to their benches and stared at you with huge eyes as if you were some troublemakers who were always late on purpose.

When Headmaster Palpatine speaks on the loudspeaker, the classroom is dead silent, and all the students stand up to show respect. With his old voice, he greeted the new students and teachers and wished them a good start for the new year. 

You remained to wait by the door until Headmaster Palpatine had finished his speech and his prayer. With pinched eyes, you looked around your new classroom with emotionless walls and searched for a free seat far away from the teacher where he wouldn't notice you.

To your surprise, there were two seats left in the row next to the double lancet windows. Usually, students would fight over the window seats, yet they were empty, waiting for you. There was one seat in the third row at the back of the class next to a guy with short, wavy, ash brown hair who had a nice tan, and the other seat was in the first row directly opposite the teachers' table. No wonder this one was empty. Nobody likes to sit in front of the teacher.

"He's kind of hot."

"Finn, no!" you whispered. "He's not hot, and he's way too old for you."

The elegant teacher breathed heavily and returned his gaze to the paper. 

Something in your guts made you feel that he could hear your blood pulsing and your heart racing from afar. You weren't sure if it was because of the exhaustion from the stairs or the fact that you just realized the Eiffel Tower man from the cafeteria was going to be your teacher in your final year.

"Wait, what? Nah, I'm talking about that guy in the last row," Finn said and pointed at the guy, who had a wide grin on his face while blowing his chewing gum.

"Be quiet!" the teacher stated in a loud and strict tone as his gaze returned to you.

All of a sudden, you couldn't move anymore. Your head was empty, your mouth dry, and you watched from a distance the teacher stroking his neck with his left hand as he put the paper on his desk. Suddenly he stretched his right hand into the empty seat with his gaze fixed on you. 

Without realizing it, Palpatine had already finished his speech, and Finn was no longer standing next to you. He sat in the back row next to the guy he mentioned, which now only meant that you got the VIP ticket to sit in front of the teacher. 

You gave Finn an icy stare as his lips formed a sentence that you interpreted as sorry. 

"Traitor," you murmured.

"We are waiting for you, Miss [Y/Surname]," the teacher said sharply. "Take. Your. Seat!"

You glanced back at the teacher whose veins were pulsing on his temple, revealing that he would not repeat himself. The fact he already knew your surname without even asking for it was not a good sign.

You nodded and walked to the seat in front of him, minimizing the eye contact with the class. You were so embarrassed. You had no idea how long you had been standing there by the door all alone. Finn could at least say something or pinch your arm.

You knew the teacher was still looking at you when you took off your hat and placed your coffee on your small light wooden table. Out of your bag, you took your pencil case and your notebook. The claim edge of your light wood desk touched the dark brown wooden table from the teacher, making only a line separating you. From his angle, he could see everything you did without moving.

Your eyes narrowed on your dark blue skirt as you nervously touched the soft fabric with your fingers. When you finally dared to look at the table, you saw the teacher's large hand taking your coffee and throwing it into the trash can.

"Drinking in my classroom is strictly forbidden," the teacher informed coolly. "Unless it's water."

Damn, he really must hate that coffee.

"Hold on, you can't just do that!" you called out on the teacher and smashed your hand palm loudly on the desk. "I paid for that, and I didn't even have a chance to taste it." 

You began to feel your anger rising as you waited for the teacher to turn around and face you.

It was like Harry Potter and Voldemort at the end of their last duel. Your eyes clashed like the two spells from the wands that collided with a bang of a cannon blast. With his raised and curved brows and dilated nostrils, he walked away from the trash can to his table and rested his elbows on the support of the wooden chair. He stretched his back without once taking his eyes off you as if it were a competition to see who could lose sight of each other first. Through his glasses, you noticed a twitch in his left eye.

"Yes, I can."

That was not how you expected to greet your first teacher in the first lesson after a long summer.

"It's your fault anyway," the teacher added abruptly. "As much as I can remember, you had enough time."

_Of course, he had to remember me._

"I'm sorry that you have to ruin my day just to make yours better," you snapped back. 

You listened to how your heart started to beat faster. You looked at your hands, which had pressed themselves into fists. This man has been provoking you ever since you entered the school building. He criticized your hat, blamed you for not drinking fast enough your hot coffee, which ended in the trash can anyway, and called you a little witch.

The atmosphere in the room was tense. Every student held their breath and didn't dare to make a sound as if they were in that horror movie named _Quiet Place_. They all wanted to know how this would continue.

You thought the teacher would kick you out of the class, if not immediately out of the window, or slap your face with his thick grey folder that was next to his black laptop. After all, it was clear that he had finished the last sentence. With sharp eyes, he stared down at you as he cocked an eyebrow and pursed his lips into a smirk. 

"You're so right," the teacher replied.

Just like the other students, you were confused. It was not a little smirk but a very distinct smirk as if he had you right where he wanted you. He lifted himself, walked to the front of the blackboard, and observed the other students who silently looked at him with fears in their eyes. He put his left hand in his jeans pocket and slowly let a breath out.

"My name is Kylo Ren, and I am your new psychology teacher."


	3. Hell & War

"My name is Kylo Ren, and I am your new psychology teacher. However, the only way you're allowed to address me is as Professor or Doctor Ren. I am way more qualified than a simple teacher. Think of it as a preparation for your future if you think you have what it takes to attend a university. Psychology is one of your main subjects. I suggest you study hard because I'm not going to make it easy for you. Since you are in your final years now, I hope you're smart enough to understand how important this year is. Some of you will cry for hours, not coping with the stress, and eventually give up. If you don't want to have a future, then you might as well leave my class. Regularly you will see me two times a week. One double lesson on Monday morning and the other double lesson on Wednesday afternoon. It's going to be a long and stressful year. I expect a lot from you, and I hope you will not disappoint me. In other words, as Miss [Y/surname] so kindly mentioned in the beginning, welcome to hell."

And the Oscar for the best speech goes to...

First of all. Who the hell names their child Kylo?

If you knew the tall man from the cafeteria was about to be your teacher before you entered the classroom, you would guess he teaches math or physics like Mr. Hux. Subjects that you hate with a passion. If you met him outside of school, you would think he's a lawyer or a businessman, but no. He had to be your psychology teacher. Or as he would prefer to call him 'professor.'

Without a break, his speech bored itself into your memory. His deep dark voice showed no emotion and that smirk. That goddamn smirk Professor Ren wore on his face like a false snake, knowing full well that in the end, no student in the class would make it out alive because his poison would spread all over the air, and every living creature that inhales it would die from it.

When the bell rang, the light bulb in your head went off.

Professor Ren presented passionately for two hours straight the frightening Stanford experiment and did, not once, take a break to sit down. He was dead serious when he said he wouldn't make it easy for you. He talked so fast that it was hard to listen and write down notes at the same time. 

The active writing ached your hand, and the pen left blue ink on your fingers. You turned around and looked at Finn, whose face was glowing like a disco ball with a smile while he had a conversation with his new seat neighbor.

Your first plan was to pack your stuff, put on your hat and get the hell out of the classroom so that your professor would not get the idea of stopping you and discuss your behavior with him.

You got up, glanced at Finn one last time, and headed to the door.

"[Y/N], hold on."

You stopped in front of the door, slowly turned around, and saw the coffee brown eyes that sparked pure innocence.

The black-haired girl with cute bangs that covered her eyebrows smiled at you like she wanted to offer you some of her self-made cookies.

Rose Tico was a shy, loving, and intelligent girl who always seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

At the beginning of Sophomore year, Rose entered the boys changing room where the boys asked her politely to leave, but she insisted on staying because she finally had found the courage to express her feelings towards Finn. And he was aware of Rose's crush on him.

The boys stranded Finn and Rose in front of the door, and before Rose had the chance to open her mouth, Finn informed her respectfully that he was gay. Rose stood speechless in front of him and said nothing to him as she walked away.

The next day in class, Rose walked up to Finn and hugged him tightly as she whispered in his ear that she was glad he let her know and apologized for walking away without saying anything. A big smile was visible on Finn's face as he hugged her back and thanked her for understanding.

Finn did his outcoming to his adoptive parents and his friends at the age of 14. He expected them to be disappointed and that they would bring him back to the Orphanage. But to his surprise, they were all honored that Finn trusted them. They were happy he had found the courage to share this very personal information with them and supported him with love.

As the months went by, Rose's crush on Finn also passed, and eventually, Finn and you became friends with her. Together you created a small friend group to hang out. It was always just the three of you.

"I am glad you're sitting in front of me," Rose chuckled in a bright voice. "Then I can help you more with your math homework, and I hardly have to move at all."

"Yeah, sure, this is going to be a great year."

Automatically your eyes moved to Professor Ren, who was putting his papers in his dark brown leather bag. Although you could still hear Rose's voice, it slowly disappeared like the sea before a tsunami comes. You didn't know why your eyes moved to him. They had no reason to do that, but something told you they did that on purpose.

"Hey, are you listening?" asked Rose, who snipped with her fingers close to your face. "Professor Ren called you."

_Ah shit. Is he going to give me detention? Bring me to the Headmaster's office? Suspend me?_

Finn walked past you and whispered in a disappointed tone, "Make sure you behave yourself."

Rose tapped you on the shoulder, wished you good luck, and left the classroom with Finn.

Now it was just you and the Eiffel Tower man with a strange name standing opposite each other. To confirm the respect you didn't show earlier, you took off your hat and put it on the empty desk next to the door.

Professor Ren had taken off his glasses and had been leaning comfortably on the side of his dark brown wooden desk. With his glasses on, he looked more harmless. He crossed his arms before his chest and bent his back. He looked at you the same way he did in the cafeteria. He didn't give away what he would plan on doing with you. Now that you were alone with him, he could do everything he pleased.

"Close the door, Miss [Y/Surname]."

Fuck _._ You turned around and saw the empty, cold hall that was just as deserted as the classroom you stood in with your professor. You shared a look at the door and shakily reached out with your hand to the metallic door handle as your heart started to beat faster.

Was this a type of hypnosis? You quickly dropped your hand as you came to your senses and turned around to face him.

He was still looking at you and waited for you to close that goddamn door.

You licked your lips with curiosity and lowered your eyebrows.

"Sir, with all due respect," you gradually cleared your throat. "I would prefer to leave the door open just in case you decide to murder me in here."

Professor Ren threw his eyes to the floor and denied showing you his muffled laugh, which he hid by placing his two fingers on his dimpled smile. He rubbed his chin and forced his face to remain emotionless as his gaze came back to you.

You noted he didn't like to show warm emotions, and it made you curious to wonder if one day you could crack him like a nut.

"I think you know exactly why I'm holding you back."

You moved a few steps to the right, closer to him, and ended up standing in front of the lockers next to the door.

"You stopped me because you want to invite me for a cup of coffee? Since I didn't get mine in the morning? Because of a certain someone?" you grinned ironically.

He pressed his lips firmly together and tried to swallow down his temper with a stoic face. It was clear from his facial expression that your small side crack had failed.

"That was a joke," you finished and looked around the room once again, just not in his eyes.

"For a student attending such a privileged school, you certainly have some nerves," he stated boldly.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

He lashed out, grabbed the edge of the table, and looked at you with rage in his eyes for not taking him seriously.

Your stupid remark didn't please him. At all.

"Do I have to remind you that you made fun of my height, came late to my class, and called it specifically hell?" His tone continued growing louder and more offensive. "Not to mention, you humiliated and disrespected me in front of the other students!"

He raised his right arm over your empty seat and slapped his palm against it forcefully, causing you to shiver immediately.

"You can be relieved to hear I don't give you detention or bring you to the headmaster's office for that behavior."

Voiceless with your mouth partly open, you fixed your gaze down on your shoes. Never in your life had someone screamed at you that way. Not even your cruel father. You felt the little tears behind your eyes slowly trying to crawl out.

You decided to remain stable, raised your chin upwards to look him in the eyes, and held the tears from falling down your cheeks.

"You were the one who threw my coffee in the trash can!" you stated loudly, as your tone nearly cracked.

You stepped closer to him, still holding the eye contact.

"You could ask me nicely to put it on the floor or put it on your desk, but you didn't. And on top of that, it's not my fault you can't take a harmless joke!" you clasped back.

Briskly he stood up and approached your personal space.

You sensed fear taking control of your mind and body as you started to breathe heavily. You moved instantly backward, and Professor Ren followed your rhythm, causing your back to hit the hardwood lockers. He put his hand palms on the lockers next to your face, so he was encircling you and kept his mischievous, wicked sight from above at your terrified, frozen eyes. His eye color didn't harmonize with the autumn colors anymore and turned into a black moon.

In no universe was this appropriate.

The only thing you were capable of doing was inhaling his cologne. It smelled rich and masculine. The man had excellent taste.

You felt a slight tingle in your toes that slowly went up through your legs until it sunk into your stomach. Professor Ren's hand was as big as your whole face.

Your brain was malfunctioning and didn't cope with what was going on. Your heart fell deep in your underwear without beating anymore as you looked at him upwards. His face was centimeters away from yours. His big nose almost touched the tip of your nose, and you could swear you saw his sinister eyes focusing on your lips and then again on your eyes as his jaw clenched and his lips twitched.

Any moment he would grab you by your neck with his huge hands and strangle you to death.

"I think I wasn't clear enough. How dare you raise your voice at me."

"I- I am not- afraid of you," you said in a trembling tone. Your dry mouth made it nearly impossible for you to breathe correctly, so you held it open as your eyes scanned his neck.

An evil sneer appeared on his face, followed by a light chuckle as he slowly tossed his face to the left. His soft hair brushed against your red cheeks. With his generous lips, he nearly touched your left earlobe.

The door was still open, yet it clearly didn't bother him at all.

"It would be easier if you would, little witch. You just started a war that you're going to lose. You have no idea what I'm capable of doing. For your sake, I suggest you drop that attitude and leave this classroom immediately before I do something that I will not regret later," he whispered in a threatening tone.

His warm breath on your ear felt like the wind. The way his voice whispered the pitiful nickname in your ear gave you a heated feeling in your heart. A melody that you disliked pressed on repeat. You felt your swallow tightening in your throat.

Your brain was functioning properly again when you saw how he dropped his left arm. That was your sign to grab your hat and leave as fast as you could. Without saying anything or turning around and looking at him one last time, you left the class immediately. You ran so fast that you almost tripped on the stairs.

_What would he have done to me if the door were closed? Or, even worse, locked? Would he hurt me? Did he meant what he said, or was he bluffing? No, keep your shit together. You are not afraid of Professor Ren. If he wants to turn my senior year into hell, so be it. Two hours have proven to me enough that I despise this man with every single cell in my body. He declared war on me and said I was going to lose it. He underestimates me, and that is a big mistake._

_That is a challenge, a game for Professor Ren, and I am willing to play along with it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey cuties!
> 
> If you're into Kylo Ren being all mysterious and acting like a piece of shit, you found the right story ;)
> 
> The storyline will be quite long. Let's just say many things will happen in here.
> 
> My writing is improving, and I promise the chapters to get better and more thrilling with time. I think there will be around 50 chapters or more, depends if new ideas randomly pop up in my head. I repeat, this story is a slow-burn! (I'm not kidding.) There is quite a lot of plot in it.
> 
> It would mean the world to me if you could be so lovely and leave a kudo, a comment, or give me some feedback, so I can see if you like the story and what I could do better. I'm not gonna lie they make me extremely happy and motivate me to continue writing.
> 
> Don't hesitate to message me if you find any mistakes. I'd be more than glad to correct them :)
> 
> Happy reading, and may the force be with you :*


	4. Bon Appétit

"What do you know about Professor Ren?" you asked Rose with your eyes looking down at your sad plate full of pasta, a grilled sausage, and cucumber salad.

After two unforgettable hours of psychology and one hour of English, it was finally lunchtime. The large dining hall resembled the interior of a church. When you look up at the brown, rounded roof with ribbed vaulting, you were able to get lost in them. The high stained windows filled the hall with bright colors.

You sat across from Rose, and every time the exit door opened, the cold breeze filled the room and made her body shiver from time to time, yet she didn't pay attention. Instead of eating her cold green beans that lay lonely on her plate, her eyes glued on the pages of a thick book called _A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas._

It might not have been the best time to interrupt her while she read and lived in another fantasy world. But you had a war to win and needed as much information about Kylo fucking Ren so you could get to crash him like a fly the moment he least expected it.

If there is anyone who knew the school tea, it was Rose.

"Well." She slammed her book with her eyes directed at you. "While I was in the restroom, I overheard a couple of girls giggling and talking about how a new tall, handsome teacher arrived from the United States. I assume the whole school talks now about Professor Ren. Oh, and I think they said that he used to teach at Stanford University or something." She picked a bean and shoved it in her mouth. "And as far as I have seen his hands, he's unmarried. Why are you asking?"

You weren't surprised that a professor who thought so highly of himself switched from one private school to another. You could still smell his cologne as if he had sprayed his poison on you, and you only had a few hours to live until you choked on his scent. Your mind crossed back with pictures, how his shining eyes were studying your reaction to him being so inappropriate close to you.

From all the countries, what brought him to Germany?

"I simply wonder what on earth he's doing here." You leaned back with arms folded over your chest. "You rarely see a two-meter-tall refrigerator walking through a school."

Rose's wrinkles appeared at the corners of her eyes, and she burst out laughing. Nothing in the world made you happier than seeing other people laugh. It filled your heart with warmth and made it sing. Especially when you knew you were the reason for their smile.

From a distance, Finn approached your table with his plate and another fellow behind him.

"Here you are. Everyone, this is Poe Dameron, my new seat neighbor," Finn announced proudly, as he took his seat next to Rose.

Poe sat next to you with a dimpled smile and a plate with roasted chicken and mixed salad. His nut-brown eyes matched his thick eyebrows, and with his 3-day beard, it was easier to misinterpret him as a young teacher.

Of course, it was absurd to compare him with Professor Ren, yet both were among the most attractive men you have ever seen in school.

 _What am I thinking, Professor Ren, is not attractive?_ There is nothing special about him. Although, the cold aura around him made him quite mysterious. But just because he has raven black hair, wears elegant clothes, and an expensive, good smelling cologne does not make him attractive.

"I didn't expect our English teacher to let us call her by her first name," Poe started the conversation with a husky and hypnotic voice.

"Yeah, a teacher rarely does that," you replied. "Sometimes, I forget that Ms. Rey is a teacher and not a student." A broad smile appeared on your face as your mind switched to her.

Ms. Rey was a young and lovely human being. Although she had only been teaching for five years, she knew her field. When she was at her lowest, she always tried to smile. Nobody cared more about the student's mental health than her. Her British accent sounded much more pleasant than Mr. Hux's. The second he opened his mouth, only those who know how to speak his language in mathematics and physics, which is only 2% of the whole school, could catch up with his lesson.

You belonged to the other 98% of students who struggled with everything that sounded like math, chemistry, and physics. The only one in class who paid attention to Mr. Hux's lesson was Rose, whose biggest dream was to become a mechanic.

"Hey, isn't that our psycho teacher?" Poe claimed, looking behind his back with his face pointed towards the front door. "What's his name again, Raynal? Looks like he found himself a friend."

"It's Ren," Rose corrected. "The man next to him is Mr. Hux, our math teacher. Maybe you will like him." Her tone was full of hope trying to get Poe on the side of science and logical thinking.

"I highly doubt that," you jested and shook your head in disbelief. On your plate, you tried to catch with your fork the chopped sausage that slipped away.

You took a big sip of your glass when you heard Professor Ren's surname and tried not to think about what happened in the classroom. How he nearly made your heart jump out of your chest.

"Okay, they are on their way to the exit door," Finn muttered and narrowed his head. "Don't draw attention."

Your eyes weren't supposed to look at your psychology professor, which you also didn't when Poe called him by the wrong name. The least you wanted was him to see you, but your mind lost control over your body. 

You tried to resist, but your gaze fell backward when you saw him coming towards you like the sea about to touch the land. All the students stared at him as if he were Superman, who crossed the path through the cameras. Only a cape was missing. Compared to him, Mr. Hux looked like a small insect who had nothing on the man next to him.

Professor Ren's wavy hair flew back when someone opened the exit door, and the wind flew in. The timing was like in the movies. It was so perfect you wanted to capture this moment. Only using your mobile phones in the dining hall was not allowed.

It was just like in _Pride & Prejudice _when _Mr. Darcy_ approached _Miss Bennet_ in the cold misty dawn. In other modern romantic movies, everything would spin in slow motion. The people around would disappear, and the camera would zoom at _Person A_ , who had a relaxed face that didn't express any emotions, so it was impossible to read what they were thinking. Nobody knew if they were angry or happy as they got closer to _Person B_. Then there was _Person B_ , who gazed at _Person A_ just like you did in the restaurantwhen you saw the waiter arriving with your food.

While you were still observing Professor Ren, you put your fork with the small, chopped sausage in your mouth. As you tried to swallow, you felt the urge to grab your neck as the piece got stuck in your throat. In slow motion, the metal fork fell on the ground, and you felt a fullness in your ears.

Your eyes popped out, and your loud coughing brought attention to Mr. Hux and Professor Ren, so they stopped right next to your table with a questionable look at you as you watched your life pass before your eyes.

Your eyes filled up with tears and pain in your sorrowful throat. Poe tried to slap your back with all his strength, which was a nice gesture, yet did not help. When you coughed with full force one last time, desperately to get it out, the small, chopped sausage jumped out of your mouth and fell back onto your plate.

Rose held your glass of water in front of you, which you kindly accepted, and took a large sip of it as if you waked up at 3 am to drink like you were in a desert. Your dry mouth needed the fresh, clear water that calmed you down as you slowly found the rhythm to breathe.

"Miss [Y/Surname]," Mr. Hux said with an amused tone and an evil sneer. "You aren't seriously trying to choke on a sausage just so I will let you go to the nurse during my lesson, are you?"

"No, Sir, how could I," you responded mockingly and looked up in his forest-green eyes. "I would rather die from this sausage than enter your class."

There was a reason why Mr. Hux was one of the most disliked teachers at school. With his orange hair, pale skin color, and his style of clothes, students compared him with a blood-sucking creature.

Going to the restroom during his lesson was forbidden. Not only was he bad at teaching but in communicating as well. He used to yell at students who struggled to understand and embarrassed them in front of the whole class by calling them many hurtful words.

Professor Ren turned his face to Mr. Hux's right side and tried to hide a smirk so Mr. Hux wouldn't notice. It was the same smirk like in class when you joked about him killing you. He attempted to wipe it off his face but without success. Mr. Hux had noticed.

Mr. Hux returned his gaze to Professor Ren with a dubious look as if he hoped support would come from him, yet Professor Ren turned his expressionless face back to you and did nothing. His moist eyes peered at you as he nodded in encouragement, corresponding with your comeback.

"Careful, [Y/Surname]," Mr. Hux warned, looking at you with a cold gaze. "Not that one day, your mouth is going to be the reason you get thrown out of this school before you graduate."

"Don't worry, Mr. Hux." You crossed your legs and looked up at him with a fake smile and your glass of water in your right hand. "I'm pretty sure you're not the only one who thinks that way."

If there was one thing you were sure about, it was Professor Ren's and Mr. Hux's biggest wish to kick you out of school as soon as possible.

When the water touched your lips again, you licked them slowly, enjoying every drop as your eyes turned to Professor Ren, who had both hands stuck in his pants pocket and his gaze fixed on you. Mr. Hux faked a broad smile and glanced at you with a long sharp look.

Professor Ren looked at you with obscure eyes one last time as he let an oppressive breath out and disappeared at the exit door behind Mr. Hux. You thanked Poe and looked at Finn, who had a long face and one raised eyebrow.

Finn breathed and tilted his head. "What did I say about not drawing attention, Chipmunk?"

"Oh right, I'm so sorry, Finn," you grumbled. "Next time, when I choke on something, I'll try to do it in silence!"

"I wonder what shampoo Professor Ren uses to make his hair sit so well," Rose remarked out of nowhere.

You all started to laugh and forgot Mr. Hux's friendly, welcoming greeting. Comfortably you sat all there and talked about different things you did in the summer. After a while, you stood up and cleared your plates from the table.

It was nice to have Poe by your side. The way he spoke, full of charm, felt like you had known him for years. Slowly you approached your class with Mr. Hux already going through his papers.

You approached the door when you felt Poe's firm hand taking you by your wrist and pulling you back as Finn and Rose entered the class.

"Is it just me, or do you see it too?" Poe whispered.

"What - exactly do you mean?"

There was no way Poe could suspect something between you and Professor Ren. He just stood there, observing everyone. He didn't even speak. Maybe Poe did see you and Professor Ren earlier in the classroom after everyone left.

How would you explain to Poe what happened there so he would believe you that it was not what he thought it was?

Your heartbeat increased and roared in your ears. Would Poe tell the others about it?

"As-," he whispered and cleared his throat as if he were about to say something illegal. "A sexual tension?"

"What?" you started laughing. "No, never, Poe, this is crazy, have you seen him!? The word sexual is certainly out of the question!"

 _Fuck._ Now you were sure that Poe saw you with Professor Ren.

"I don't know," he mumbled and scratched his eyebrow. "Finn gives me the impression that he might be interested in me, but if you say so, then maybe I'm hallucinating. I mean it's only the first day anyway."

He let go of your wrist and walked into the class.

You remained to stay at the entrance door and tried to process this weird conversation. You thought of something Poe had not thought of at all. He just wanted to ask you about Finn, but your thoughts took you to Professor Ren. You bit your lip and tried not to curse.

You just thought of sexual tensions betweenyou and your psychology professor _,_ who did not give you the impression of liking you on the first day. It almost made you want to throw up your lunch all over the floor.

Why did you even think about Professor Ren in the first place?

A feeling of shame aroused in your stomach. You touched your forehead and tried to maintain a cold head just like Finn taught you to do when you felt like exploding. The way Professor Ren's big body was so close to yours and the way he looked at your lips with his gleaming eyes made it hard for you to forget about this.

He is your psychology professor, and thinking about him like this is more than wrong. Come on, after all, you are here, in a Catholic school, damn it.


	5. Solo

The late, cold September wind was blowing in your face, freezing your eyelashes, and brought tears out of you that ran down your red cheeks. Walking through the entrance of the schoolyard, you hold your hands in front of your nose to prevent the sickening smell of the student's stinky cigarettes.

Wednesdays used to be fun until Professor Ren decided to show up.

You imagined him as one of the teachers who would give extra homework during the weekend. At least, you would see his grumpy face only after lunchtime for two hours and then not until Monday next week.

The thought of sitting in front of him again made your legs slow down on the stairs like you were carrying stones. What happened in the classroom before was something you didn't want to experience for the second time. Only thinking about it was a pain in your head, so you tried to avoid the feeling. You climbed the stairs to the 2nd floor as your eyes glimpsed at the hallway.

Well, well, if this is not the devil himself.

You recognized your favorite professor standing on the other side of the hallway with his head bent down next to Headmaster Palpatine, who mumbled something to him. They stood next to the stairs you needed to take to get to your class. Great.

Headmaster Palpatine was a peaceful man who would always greet the students when they walked past him in the building. He was cunning, and Rose liked the wise prayers he held through the loudspeakers every morning. His snow-white hair matched his skin color, and his large, wrinkled forehead that hung on his face made him look older than he was.

This year he would celebrate his 80th birthday, an age where it's usually impossible to continue to work. But with the control he had over this school, the idea of retiring did not cross his mind. Professor Ren, on the other hand, looked quite young. With his arrogance and knowledge, he could be at least 37.

Professor Ren seemed concentrated, carefully listening to what Palpatine had to tell him. He nodded, and a strand of hair fell to his forehead, so he shoved his hair back away from his face.

Fuck. That was hot. Lightly you bit your lip and looked up through your lashes. Something about Professor Ren's strong hand touching his hair broke something out of you. You erased those dumb thoughts, stretched your shoulders back, raised your jaw, and walked with courage towards them.

Headmaster Palpatine flinched and stopped talking when he noticed you approaching them.

"Miss [Y/Surname]! What a pleasure to see you again," Palpatine said with a welcoming tone.

"Good morning Headmaster Palpatine. The pleasure is all mine."

Your gaze went up to Professor Ren and your eyes locked.

The longer you stared into his eyes, the more you felt like you were entering a dark mine, trying to find sparkly crystals in them but without success. He kept them well hidden.

You nodded in his direction.

"Good morning to you too, Professor Ren."

In response, he shook his head, rolled his eyes, and let go of a deep sigh.

 _Why do I even bother?_ Of course, you wished he would greet you too, like the other teachers with manners did, but you forgot that absolutely nothing about him was normal.

You wondered if his reaction was part of his university preparation, or it was just you who had the honor of being greeted by him like that.

Your eye contact was interrupted by Palpatine when he cleared his throat.

"You know Kylo, Miss [Y/surname] is a talented singer _,_ and her performances with the choir are always very spectacular. But I prefer it when she sings solo _."_

You noticed Headmaster Palpatine emphasized the word solo as if he wanted to send a secret message to Professor Ren without you understanding it.

"Oh, thank you, Headmaster Palpatine, that's very kind," you smiled.

You felt flattered receiving a compliment from the Headmaster himself. Although you could jump from joy, you remained calm and relaxed.

Your eyes turned back at Professor Ren, who seemed tensed. When he heard the word solo _,_ he looked straight down at Palpatine as if he got stabbed by lightning. His gaze jumped back on you, and for the first time, you recognized something in his eyes that were not there before.

He looked confused and rattled. Maybe even startled? Whatever personal meaning this word had for him, he didn't like it.

Last year you joined the choir, and apparently, you were so good that Ms. Holdo, the woman who is known for her purple hair, had the impression your voice needed to be heard by everyone.

When you performed on stage, you were always the last one to finish the show. According to Ms. Holdo's motto, the last one is the best. Everyone could hear your passion. You were happy to receive the compliments. After all, everyone loves compliments. They give us the feeling of being good enough.

Sometimes you caught yourself dreaming of moving to America and becoming a famous singer like Rihanna or Ariana Grande, but it was only an unrealistic dream. The same one that thousands of other people shared with you.

"I'm sure you will be captivated by her voice like everyone else here is," Headmaster Palpatine added with his gaze fixed on Professor Ren. "Believe me when I tell you, you would love it."

With Headmaster Palpatine's wide grin, he reminded you of Pennywise when he did his wicked _IT_ smile.

Your eyes turned slowly back to your professor, and you lifted your chin a little higher and raised your right eyebrow. A smirk emerged on your face, sending him the message, " _Guess what, there are adults who like me."_

With the compliments of Headmaster Palpatine, you felt protected. Not that you needed the protection, but it's always good to be able to rely on someone. Having the Headmaster on your side was a big bonus.

You knew if Professor Ren would ever blame you for something that was not your fault, you could ask him for help.

_1 – 0 for me, Darcybitch. Who is losing now?_

"We'll see," Professor Ren answered.

He said it with confidence and a skeptical smirk as if he first had to confirm it himself. Surprisingly, you blinked twice, questioning if he heard you. It was like he had just read your thoughts. He wasn't easily impressed, so you took it as a challenge to be the first one to fascinate him.

Respectfully you said goodbye and carried your way.

* * *

English has always been one of your favorite subjects, and you never knew if it was because of Ms. Rey's British accent or how she held her course. She talked so passionately and with such an angelic voice as if she were the last rose flowerfrom the B _eauty and The Beast_ moviewho had to be protected. To hate her would be a crime.

An hour can pass by quickly if you're interested in a class. You had so much fun in today's lesson you didn't even notice the doorbells ringing.

Now the real horror would begin. You didn't want to go to psychology class.

Slowly and without motivation, you lifted yourself off your chair and took your backpack.

"Oh, before I forget about it, please remember to bring money to the next lesson which we have on Monday," Ms. Rey reminded the class. "We will start reading the book that I will distribute to you."

You slowly approached Ms. Rey, who stood there with her eyes glued to her notebook while biting her nails.

Her clothing style was different from all the other teachers. She usually wore a white tunic with a brown belt around her waist and had her hair braided in three cute buns.

The teachers treated her differently. Just because she was not as rich as the other teachers, she didn't mind as long as she was happy. She knew her worth and was comfortable in her skin. At least that was what she showed the students.

"Ms. Rey, I wanted to let you know how much I enjoyed this lesson today."

"Oi, [Y/N], you scared me." Ms. Rey lifted her head and put her notebook away. "I'm happy to hear you enjoyed my lesson. I guarantee you, when we start reading the book, it will be even more fun," Ms. Rey said in a lovely tone.

"About that, what book is it exactly that we're going to read?" you asked curiously.

"Pride and Prejudice."

Your smile disappeared the second you heard the title. Your eyes were in confusion, and you started to look around the class, wondering if any hidden cameras desired to caption your reaction. You wanted this to be a prank. There was no way you wanted to read that book again. You liked it, but it was overrated for your taste. And since Professor Ren reminded you of Mr. Darcy, reading this book and not picturing him as Mr. Darcy would be difficult.

"I promise you will love this book. Especially Mr. Darcy," Ms. Rey smiled as she took her bag. "Have a nice week. See you on Monday."

She left the classroom and let the door open. You stood there for a long time alone. Of course, it was her decision which book you would read in class, but of all the books available for this year, why did she have to choose this one?

You closed your eyes and pressed your hands together.

"Dear God, if there is something you want to tell or show me, please give me a sign."

As if by magic, Finn came through the door, exhausted in sweat from running all the stairs.

"Chipmunk, good, you're still here," Finn breathed. "Come with me. I have to show you something."

You didn't even have time to ask what happened when he grabbed you by the shoulders and yanked you down the stairs to the underground parking lot, which was reserved only for the teachers.

Two classes and a few teachers with Headmaster Palpatine were gathered in a circle, discussing and trying to silent the students who were loudly talking around.

As you approached Rose and Poe, who looked confused, you thought someone had dropped dead, or someone had discovered something unnatural. But instead, everyone was standing two feet away from the open elevator which, was destroyed from the inside. The brown wall had deep holes in it as if someone had tried to hit it with something hard, and the mirror lay shattered into hundreds of pieces on the floor.

Whoever had this tantrum in the elevator should be praised because, at least, the school will get a new elevator. This one was older than Headmaster Palpatine himself, and using it was pretty risky if you didn't want to plunge four floors into death.

"Who did this?"

"Nobody knows," replied Rose. "They are trying to find out who the last person was who took the elevator, but without cameras around the building, they are helpless."

"Who cares," Poe grinned. "At least the two last lessons are canceled!"

"Wait, what? That can't be. We usually have now professor –"

"Ren. I know," interrupted Finn. "I saw him in the morning walking past me. He didn't even say hello."

"Yep, sounds very much like Professor Ren," you commented.

"Finn assumes it was him who did it," Poe alluded.

You crossed your arms and let a small laugh out.

"Pff, that's a stupid accusation. What makes you believe it was Professor Ren?"

"I don't know, Chipmunk, but he's quite suspicious. It wasn't even him who canceled the lessons. It was the secretary because he disappeared without telling anyone," Finn explained in a mysterious tone as if he was a detective about to solve the elevator case. "Or can you imagine anyone else doing this?"

"No," you replied quietly.

Sure, Professor Ren was built strong, but it wouldn't make sense since you had already seen him in the morning, and he seemed normal like always. A cold facial expression with atired of this bullshit appearance.

There was no reason to accuse Professor Ren of this, but it would be quite interesting to know if it was him.

Your eyes fell to the ground, and you tried to proceed why a noble professor who didn't seem to be the type of people who get sick in their life would do such a thing. 

Whatever the reason for his sudden departure was, you wanted desperately to find it out.


	6. The Fallen Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! For this chapter I suggest you listen to this song called Fire Drill by Melanie Martinez, (the instrumental version) on repeat. I think it somehow fits the first meeting of Y/N and a special person ;)

[Song: Fire Drill by Melanie Martinez (Instrumental Version)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i2BiTiORak4)

To have the first week behind you was a great triumph. Since the elevator accident and the enigmatic disappearance of Professor Ren, nothing dramatic happened.

Some assumed he had quit school. Others thought he was no longer alive. His lack of care for his students was funny. While they wished he would return, he probably already forgot their names and their existence. Hopefully, yours as well.

Some students always asked the teachers when Professor Ren would come back, but just like the teachers, nobody knew when this would happen or if this would happen at all. And you hoped this would stay that way.

You couldn't call him a great professor, at least not yet, because after all, he had only taught two hours of psychology on the first day. Most of the time, he just bragged about how difficult and complicated his subject was and something with Stanford University.

Sleeping in on a Saturday was something new for your ears because you didn't hear the alarm ring in the morning. You completely forgot about your meeting with the choir for the whole day. Not that you had other plans in mind, but nobody should spend a Saturday at school.

Ms. Holdo would say, "God took a break on a Sunday, so Saturday is a work-day."

If she were God, then you, the choir, would be her world that she wanted to create. She preferred to hear the choir sing when the whole school was empty, and only The Nightsisters who protected the school could be the audience.

Maybe it was them who chased Professor Ren away? Because they had a feeling that he was evil? That he could be a danger to the school? Or to you? Then they must have forgotten to chase Mr. Hux away years ago.

For a Saturday afternoon, the weather was not too bad. It wasn't raining, and you could even see the sun though it did not make your skin sparkle like a disco ball. And as usual, you were late. Again.

The large room that served as a chapel for the school was on the first floor. When you arrived and opened the heavy brown door, you felt something breathe into you. Like something made a connection with you.

To enter the chapel again, after a long time, was a comfortable feeling. Nothing had changed. The big lead glass windows still had the same paintings and welcomed the sun as always with joy. The sun thanked them by reflecting a small rainbow within the windows on the white wall.

Everyone was already sitting in a circle on the other side of the room on the grey, scratchy carpet, with crossed legs and tired faces. Ms. Holdo wore her usual long dress that was nearly as purple as her hair.

She stood on the stony stairs when she looked at you and said, "Sweetie, there you are. Come sit down. We just started."

You took off your jacket and threw your backpack on the pile with the other bags. Kaydel whistled to you to indicate you should sit next to her. There was nobody else that you might know in the group when you looked around.

As you sat down, your brain directed you to look where Ms. Holdo was standing. To her right side sat an unknown boy who looked like a lot of trouble. When you saw his face, you felt your heartbeat increasing.

The young man looked like the fallen angel, who got excluded from heaven for being too handsome. His look screamed like a lot of alcohol, cigarettes, and exciting one-night stands. His dark brown hair was the color of the wooden folding chair where he sat with his legs crossed.

Your stomach started spinning around at a fast speed when his index and middle finger of his left hand pressed against his temple, and his ring and little finger gently touched his lips. You could almost think he was Sherlock trying to read you by your appearances. He observed you from a distance, and slowly a smirk appeared on his face and -

_Did he just wink at me?_

Your eyes and mouth were slightly open with a confused look. Discomfort pulled over your face, and you blushed. Quickly you turned your face forward, and your eyes dropped to the floor. You did not dare to look at him again.

"Kaydel," you whispered. "Who is that guy sitting on the chair?"

"I forgot his name, but I know he's a senior from the other class."

"I've never seen him before."

"He's new here and arrived only on Wednesday," she responded.

_On Wednesday. The day of Professor Ren's mysterious disappearance. How unusual._

"Rumor has it that he got kicked out of his last school because he was known for his bad reputation," Kaydel added. "Keep your hands away from him. I'm sure he has a collection of broken hearts from different girls and is part of a mafia gang or something."

With his black leather jacket, white shirt, dark ripped jeans, and his big boots, he rocked the stereotype of a bad boy. He definitely had a motorcycle with which he would try to impress the girls. And a brave story about how he tried to rescue a pregnant woman from a burning building. Eventually, she would jump straight into his arms, and he would drive away in the sunset while the others would cheer him. They always have one of these imaginary stories that passed through the bad boy's generation.

"As I was saying, our school got built 130 years ago by the great Nightsisters. For this year's celebration, we are going to play a big musical," Ms. Holdo announced. "I've been thinking about it for a long time, and I decided that we're going to perform, _The Phantom of the Opera!"_

Everybody got excited and started chattering around except the bad boy. He didn't look very enthusiastic, but a little smile on his face was noticeable.

"Everyone, please stand up! I want to hear you sing so I can determine your voice type and who fits which character," Ms. Holdo stated.

You stood up and went in the direction of Ms. Holdo to apologize for your lateness while she handed out papers of lyrics.

"Ms. Holdo, I am so sorry for being late. I overslept. I promise it won't happen again." With your big puppy eyes and your soft tone, you hoped this would help.

"I understand. It's only the first rehearsal, so it's fine," Ms. Holdo responded calmly with a soft smile. She put her right arm on your shoulder. "Sweetie, I don't need you right now. Just sit down and keep yourself busy. Can you do this?"

You nodded and walked away. You didn't know if you should feel relieved or hurt that you were useless for now. The other kids stood nervously in a line as Ms. Holdo approached the piano.

Your gaze fell back on the bad boy, who was about to put a second folding chair next to him. While he observed you from afar, he gestured with his head for you to sit next to him.

You didn't question your legs when they moved towards him by themselves.

"You must be special for Amilyn if you're the only one who doesn't have to sing," he asserted with a smoky voice.

His left arm hung on the support of the other chair.

Nobody was allowed to call Ms. Holdo by her first name. Not even Headmaster Palpatine. So, this guy had to be someone exceptional for her.

"And who are you to have permission to call her by her first name?"

"Allow me to introduce myself," he affirmed and stretched out his hand for a handshake. "I'm Vicrul."

With a doubtful look, you folded your arms and declined the handshake.

"What is that your pseudonym to get into every VIP club?"

He broke a smile and dropped his hand on his knee. With his wrinkled eyebrows, he looked surprised by you not accepting his hand.

"You should hear the names of my brothers. They're even weirder than mine."

His accent was one of the most attractive accents you have ever heard. It was not British, neither was it American, but more like a mix of both with maybe a little _Scottish_ in it? His voice was naturally seductive and deep but still modulated.

"Come sit down," Vicrul advised.

You turned around and glanced at the others who sang. Nobody paid attention to you. What could go wrong by just sitting next to the guy with rumors from the past? Fuck the rumors. Being friends with him couldn't harm you.

You finally decided to sit next to him on the chair, and that's where it hit you.

It was impossible to miss the enchanting sea-blue eyes twinkling with a riddle from him. No sign of evil in them to be seen. Only peace and freedom. You stared at them and felt like you would fall into a blue magic ball covered with cold snow.

"Do I have the right to know your name too?" Vicrul asked respectfully.

You were still hypnotized by his eyes, which sparked real magic out of them. Your brain couldn't form any correct sentence from your mouth as you mumbled your name. You slowly lift your left hand out for a handshake to start this all over again.

"Wrong hand," Vicrul chuckled as his eyes switched back to yours.

You shook your head, quickly dropped your left hand. You picked up your right hand and pressed it into his.

His soft skin felt comfortable, and his grip was light as if he were letting you decide how hard you wanted to press your hand into his.

He smiled as he pressed your hand tighter and turned it around while raising it higher to your eye level. His lips approached your hand, and just like that, he pressed a gentle kiss on your skin without taking his eyes off you.

Every single bone in your body was shaking, and you bit the inside of your cheek. Never in your life has someone kissed your hand like that, let alone touched it so soft like a feather. It was like in a fairy tale.

Vicrul knew, exactly, what he was doing to get your attention, and you could imagine Kaydel's voice buzzing in your mind. " _Your heart will make a fine addition to his collection."_

"How charming," you said playfully with a smirk. "Is that the method you use to wrap the girls around your finger?"

"Maybe," he responded, keeping the same energy. " Your hand smells like strawberry. I like it."

"Thank you. I can show you the hand cream I use."

You both laughed as you went deeper into the conversation. You found out that Vicrul was the same age as you, and Ms. Holdo caught him singing in the sports hall and therefore forced him to join the choir. He told you about his brothers and how they were much older than him.

You toyed with the idea of asking him why he got expelled from his old school, but before you could ask, Ms. Holdo approached the two of you with a large smile on her face.

"I see you two get along," Ms. Holdo remarked with a smirk as she winked at you. "Sweetie, it's your turn."

You stood up and approached the piano. Your hands were sweating, and you could feel how your heart started to beat faster. You were nervous about singing in front of a group after such a long time.

Your gaze moved to the center of the group. They all sat there, patiently waiting for you to start singing. You glanced at Vicrul one last time, who slowly nodded, making you feel like you knew you could do it. You returned him a smile, and the first note of the piano made a sound.

🎵 🎵 🎵

Everyone clapped and cheered. You were happy to be able to sing again like you used to. It almost felt like standing on the stage again. You thanked everyone, and Ms. Holdo hugged you, something she never did to the others.

Hopefully, The Nightsisters had the same reaction as the group. But when you looked at Vicrul, he didn't clap. He just smirked, seeing in you the great performer you wished to be once.

"I think we have found our Christine Daaé," Ms. Holdo congratulated.

A bright grin appeared on your lips.

"Thank you so much for this opportunity! This means... a lot to me," you smiled.

You felt how slowly liquid began to rise in your eyes. You were so happy you wished that you could hug the world. You would end your final year by singing the lead role of one of the most traditional musicals in the world. What a nice goodbye present.

The day went by quickly, and for the rest of the rehearsal, you sang a few more songs together with the others, and for the first time, you heard Vicrul's voice. He was stunning. His voice was loud and clear, and you understood how easy it was for girls to fall in love with him and, at the same time, how dangerous.

No man in the world had a more impressive voice than him. No one.

After many more songs, it was already 8:00 pm. You put on your jacket and slowly started to pack up everything. You were happy to hear that Kaydel got the supporting role of Carlotta Giudicelli. She deserved it. Her voice was extraordinary, just like her personality.

You approached Mrs. Holdo and appreciated again how happy you were to play the lead role.

"I don't think with a voice like yours, you could ever disappoint anyone," Ms. Holdo laughed.

"I have read the summary of the play, and since everyone already has their role, I wonder who gets to play Raoul and Erik?" you asked.

"I believe Vicrul will explain to you everything," Ms. Holdo replied and guided her gaze at the person behind waiting for you at the exit door.

You said goodbye to her and walked up to Vicrul, who held your bag in his hand. Funny how guys become gentlemen when they want something.

When you both left the school grounds, you noticed a black motorcycle standing next to the sign where it was forbidden to park. Just how you expected it, the light flashed as Vicrul approached it. He took out his helmet from a small box behind the seat.

When you were 13, you dreamed of having a motorcycle. If you ever needed to get a clear head, you would drive around the city and across the landscape. You would ride to the highest mountain and watch the sunset from there disappearing.

When you told your mother about it, she was the opposite of what you expected. She assured you, if you would ever ride a motorcycle, she would disinherit you from the family and never talk to you again. She forced you to watch videos of motorcycle accidents that still traumatized you until today. Since then, you have no interest in them.

"Do you need a little ride"? Vicrul asked you and put his helmet on.

"No, thanks, if my mother sees us, you're going to die with me," you joked.

"I can drop you off somewhere else, and then you can walk the rest," he suggested. "I won't drive fast. You can trust me."

"Easier said than done."

You noticed how the spark in his eyes disappeared as if what you said lightly offended him.

"It's up to you to decide," he replied coolly.

On the one hand, you would sit on a dangerous transport that could lead you to your death very quickly without saying goodbye to Finn, your mother, and Ms. Rey. But on the other hand, you would have the opportunity to sit on a motorcycle and hold on to a sexy guy.

_Shall I or shall I not? That is the question._

Oh well, Carpe Diem.

"Do you have a second helmet?" you demanded him with a playful grin.

Vicrul's spark came back to life as he smiled and took a second helmet out of the box. _Damn, a lot fits into this little box._

"Always."

Of course, he always had a helmet. Just in case a girl decides to join him. Like you now in this moment.

He put on his leather gloves and gestured with his fingers for you to come closer. Slowly and carefully, he placed the helmet on your head.

"You have eh- beautiful eyes," he added quietly.

You closed your visor and said nothing. Good thing Vicrul couldn't see your face under your helmet because you were red like a tomato, and you could sense how your sweat dripped on your forehead.

You always thought your eye color was pretty boring and nothing special, just like your voice. Nevertheless, his compliment surprised you and with the way he said it. So gentle like he meant it. Like you were the only one with colors in your eyes.

He sat down, and you sat behind him carefully without being too close to him.

"Don't be scared to touch me. I won't bite."

Why does he have to say it in such a seductive tone? The sentence made you heavy blush. Shyly you wrapped your hands around his torso. Through his shirt, you felt his brawny muscles. You began to imagine things in your head that you haven't thought about before.

You could be wrong, but it seemed to you as if you heard underneath his helmet a muffled grunt. You told him your address, which wasn't far away from the school. He started the engine, and the adventure began.

* * *

At first, you sensed fear. Fear that Vicrul would drive too fast, and you would run over a red light. Fear you would die. Fear that something might happen. You sensed panic. The panic that somehow your arms would let go of him and you would fall from the motorcycle on the street and would get hit by a car.

And-

You felt how the adrenalin rushed through your body. Your eyes were closed. It's funny how the human thinks if your eyes are closed, nothing bad can happen. It's like your problems would solve themselves by sleep, or the monsters under your bed would disappear when you just close your eyes.

Now or never. You slightly opened your eyes, and in front of your visor, you saw different lights from several large buildings passing by. Flashing lights. It was unforgettable. Everything felt so unreal.

With the adrenalin in your body, you would love to get up on the seat, take off your helmet, stretch out your arms as Rose did in _Titanic_ , and scream so that everyone could hear you. You felt the wind blow in the small holes underneath the helmet, and you couldn't help but smile.

It wasn't cold anymore. You forgot about it. About everything. You felt free in so many ways. You have never felt more alive than you did at this moment.

After a short ride, the adventure came to an end. Vicrul slowed down when you pointed your finger at the Chinese restaurant where he stopped. He took off his helmet, swung his hair to the side, and turned his head towards you.

"Are you hungry, my love?"

Your eyes spread wide, and you gave him a very controversial look. You quickly removed your hands off him and stood up. You took off your helmet and gasped for air as if you were underwatering the whole time.

"No, this is where I say goodbye." Your voice became filled with annoyance. "I will walk from here, and one more thing. Don't you ever call me love again," you declared sharply.

Who the fuck does he think you are? Just because you sing now in the same choir, sat down on his motorcycle, and touched his hot body muscles, doesn't mean that you belong already to him and would let him call you like that. Maybe this works on the other girls, but for you, it's a big turn off.

With fiery eyes, you looked at him and handed him the helmet.

"As far as I know, you will fall deeply in love with me and choose me over the phantom," Vicrul said comfortably. His gaze met yours, and he smirked.

Before you could say something, everything began to make sense.

Ms. Holdo had told you Vicrul would explain to you the rest, and you had the answer right in front of you. That's why Ms. Holdo liked him so much. With his charm, he had enchanted her too. Since Vicrul was the only guy in the group with a pleasant voice, you imagined he would be the one to play Erik.

Many questions whirred in your head as you wondered who else could play the phantom.

"If you play Raoul, then who gets to play -?"

"Holdo doesn't know yet," he cut you off. "She is desperately trying to find someone who could be perfect for the role, but it's not easy. She's extremely picky."

It was unbelievable how this guy got to know her only three days ago and already knew how she ticked.

"Well, we're not in a rush," you commented.

He agreed, and there was a thoughtful silence. You would see each other more often and play two characters that were madly in love with each other. You would maybe have to kiss him, and the idea of it made your stomach twist.

"Anyway, thank you for the ride Vicrul, I-"

And just like the wind, he was gone before you could finish your sentence.

_Wow. Did I say something wrong?_

* * *

As you entered through your house door, you dropped your bag on the chair, took off your shoes, and went upstairs.

The singing made you tired, and the only thing you wanted was just a hot cup of tea. When you entered the living room, you noticed your mother sitting on the couch. She looked at the bright computer screen with tired eyes and headphones in her ears. She didn't hear you because as soon as she lifted her head, she nearly had a heart attack.

"My goodness, you can't just sneak up on me and scare me like that!" she roared.

"Sorry, I thought nobody was at home."

It was true. Seeing your mother at home wasn't something that happened often. Most of the time, she traveled for work.

You sat down and gave her a long hug as if you hadn't seen her for decades. She returned the hug and kissed you kindly on the left side of your temple. With her smooth hand, she stroked your hair.

Your mother put the computer on the floor, and your head dropped on her lap. It was at such times when you forgot the world around you and just enjoyed everything in silence. The beautiful mother-daughter connection you missed so much. You always loved it when your mother stroked your hair like that. In her arms, you felt safe. Loved.

"I missed you," she muttered in your ear.

A small smile appeared on your face.

"I missed you too."

"Will you go to work tomorrow?" she asked softly, although you were the only ones in the room.

You could feel how your heavy eyes slowly shut down.

"Yeah, I'll be home around 10:00 pm."

It didn't matter to you that you still wore your clothes from outside and laid on the couch with your head on your mother's lap. You wouldn't mind falling asleep that way every night for the rest of your life.

The last thing you heard before you peacefully fell asleep was your mother's soft voice muttering, "I'll be here waiting for you." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My description of Vicrul's appearance (picture in the end) is based on Thomas Doherty. The fascinating author luna-auctor inspired me to do so when I first read her phenomenal story "These Violents Delights" that you have to check out!


	7. Tarine Tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!! PLEASE READ!!!
> 
> I deeply apologize that it took me a month and two weeks to update, but I can't promise that this will not happen more often in the future :( 
> 
> School is keeping me really busy. I respect every single author who has time to write over 1k words per chapter and update every second day.
> 
> I'm lowkey proud of how this chapter turned out to be, especially because I added some new interesting storylines ;)

You entered the building of the small indoor arena and covered your nose from the smell. It was a mixture of sweat, male deodorant, stinky socks, and the scent of a freshly washed floor that smelled like mint.

The lights were broad, and the white color of the wall made it even look brighter. You stared for a couple of seconds into the light that made you see small black dots. After a while, they disappeared. From downstairs, you heard people chatting and laughing.

When you reached the staircase, you looked down and recognized a man with medium-short hair and a trimmed, well-groomed beard streaked with grey. The deeper you went down the stairs, the colder the metallic railing on your left hand felt. The man was wearing his usual black leather jacket that symbolized his toughness since he was a teenager and a black t-shirt with grey pants.

Luke Skywalker was an old friend from your mother that your father highly despised. Three years after your birth, your mother had broken off contact with Luke. Five months ago, you came with her to watch a basketball game, and he was there behind the bar.

It was a beautiful and emotional reunion for your mother. In her youth, she used to play basketball for the Rebel Alliance Club, where Luke played in the men's Premier League team, and at a party, they became friends. He was like an older brother to her, who watched after her so she would not get into trouble.

Two months ago, he suggested a small job to you. It would be at his little bar in the indoor arena when basketball matches were taking place. What else could you do than accepting the offer with gratitude? It never hurts to earn some pocket money as a student.

You enjoyed working with Luke, and you had free entry for the events and snacks. You never understood why your mother ever broke off contact with him or what happened to his right hand. When you asked him about it, he always told you he wasn't ready to tell you about his past, and when the time was right, he would. But the time never came, and you gave up waiting for it.

The whole Sunday afternoon, you couldn't stop thinking about Vicrul _._ Your mind traveled back to the moment when you hugged him from behind and felt his body muscles through his shirt. Thinking of him made you chew your lip and flutter your eyes from the feeling of how his backed pressed against you.

Today was an important basketball game. It was the beginning of the basketball season. The Resistance against the First Order. With Luke, you cheered for the men's premier league of the Resistance team, which called themselves The Rebels.

The men's premier league of the First Order was known for violently injuring the players from the other basketball teams. That's how they received their unusual nickname, The Stormtroopers. They were the best and most feared basketball team that never lost a game.

For years, The Stormtroopers always defeated The Rebels, but they never gave up and never lost hope. They only needed a few points to finally defeat The Stormtroopers, so it was just a matter of time when The Rebels would win.

You were thrilled to watch this game. Luke never trusted the committee of the First Order Club. He always had a bad feeling about them. It scared him to imagine that one day all The Resistance fans would cheer for the First Order.

As you descended the last step, you saw Luke leaning behind the small 8-foot bar. He held his freshly tapped glass of Guinness in his left hand while using his right bionic hand to leaf through a newspaper that lay on the counter.

"Michael Jackson called," Luke said. "He said he wants something back that belongs to him and only him."

His blue eyes were still fixed on the newspaper. Luke had noticed your presence without looking at you. His voice sounded low and rough as if he smoked some cigarettes not long time ago.

"What?" you replied with a small chuckle.

You placed your bag on the chair next to the stairs and wondered what he meant.

Luke put his beer glass on the counter, tilted his head to the side with extended eyes, and looked at you.

"Uh-oh, Granny! You're not even older than me, yet your brain works five times slower than mine. Must be that god damn phone."

One day you placed a chair behind the bar next to the stairs, so you could sit down when your legs were too tired from standing. Since then, he always called you granny and mocked you for complaining about standing behind a bar for only three hours every second Sunday.

Sometimes, you used the chair to reach shelves that were too high for you, and sometimes when the players wanted to have a beer after a game, they put their heavy, smelly backpacks on it. This reminded you of your chair in your room with piles of clothes on it.

Working as a bartender was a great experience. Luke paid you well and often cracked jokes. The customers were kind to you, and you never had any problems.

It was only after your shift started that you realized Luke's dry joke, and it bothered you because it made you think of Professor Ren. He was not a fan of your hat, either.

"What is it with you old men hating on this poor, innocent hat?" _y_ ou sighed. "I'm sure Michael Jackson would love it."

You took off your hat and hung it on the corner of the chair.

"And here I thought you had no idea who Michael Jackson was," Luke laughed. "You almost gave your old, poor man a heart attack."

You pursed your lips, a slight furrow between your brows as you stared pointedly at him, with an icy coldness.

Luke Skywalker was an unusual man. Although he was 53, there was a reason his surname matched his spirit. Luke lived his life as if he were a 21-year-old boy, ready to travel the world and live his life like every new day is an adventure.

Everyone knew him and, everyone loved his bar in the arena. He was wise, impulsive, brave, selfless, and kept his private life to himself. He was respected by everyone for working with his prosthetic hand, and small children always asked him if he was some Bucky guy.

Before he became a bartender, he used to be a basketball coach. He was good at it, if not one of the best. Luke never told you what made him give up his coaching job and disappear to Ireland for six years. The only thing you knew was he suddenly came back and became a loyal member of The Resistance club.

"Does that mean I'm not the only one who thinks that hat looks like garbage?" Luke asked with curiosity shimmering in those eyes that reminded you of Vicrul's sparkle.

"It's just-," you kneeled and opened the small wood cupboard underneath the sink. You tried to reach with your left hand the beer glass that was so far in the back that you almost had to climb into the cupboard to take it out. "A man who is, unfortunately, my teacher but somehow also not, I don't know, I-"

"Hey, kid," Luke interrupted. "I'm gonna take a quick smoke break before the game starts, so watch out here. You can tell me about your problems later."

If you were Luke, you would also rather disappear than listen to your own problems. With your head still in the cupboard and your fingers touching the large beer glass, you slowly slid it out with the same rhythm as your head.

"Mineral water and tarine tea."

Confusion overtook your mind. You lifted your head a bit too fast and felt a wave of pain flowing into it as if someone had hit you with a hammer. You plopped on the floor, put your right hand automatically on your head, stretched out your left arm, and angrily put the beer glass on the counter. From the other side, it would look like you saw one hand coming out of a hole like in the horror movies. If you had left your hat on, it might not have been so painful.

This voice brought goosebumps to your arms. It made not only your head go wild from the pain but somehow your heart as well. Among all the people, you did not expect to hear this voice again. Well, at least not here.

You put your weight on your left arm and slowly stood up. Your head was spinning in circles, and a feeling of vomiting slowly approached your mouth as you looked at a very tall gentleman in front of you. His hands were placed at the counter, and he had his head turned back over his shoulder.

You could smell his strong cologne that, by the looks of the other women around him, made them bite their lips and check him out like dessert.

You scratched your eyebrow and felt uncomfortable seeing this with your own eyes. You believed to be stuck in a bad romantic comedy movie. Only one person could wear this cologne and make people go light-headed around them, including you.

The man was wearing a white t-shirt with a brown leather jacket and dark blue jeans. He noticed that the bartender came back, turned his head around with a smirk as if he were about to flirt. But his expression hardened, and his deep eyes scanned your face as he recognized you. The little, flirty smirk dropped quickly and, he gave you a dirty look while looking you up and down. Slowly the pain in your head became more painful when you recognized who it was.

"Mister..., Mister Ren..."

"It's Professor Ren to you," he corrected with his gruff voice. "Mineral water and tarine tea."

"Excuse me?"

"Do I have to repeat myself?"

A muscle in his jaw twitched and, you could see the fire in his eyes building up.

"I just hit my head really hard, give me a second," you replied and stroked your head softly.

He pressed his lips together and rolled his eyes.

You turned your back to him and walked to the chair. You could sense Professor Ren's hot and dark eyes watching you, like a cold wind that blew from behind, and you realized it was the first time he saw you without your uniform.

The hat symbolized your soul that you were proud of, and you didn't want him to forget who you were without your uniform, so you put your hat back on. How cool would it be if Professor Ren would react the same way as vampires did when they smelled garlic?

The squeezing pain of pressure that wrapped around your head didn't stop, and without realizing it, you had forgotten his order.

"What was it again you wanted?"

He lifted his head, narrowed his eyebrows, and his black ink eyes drilled deep holes into you that felt like acids on your skin. He clenched his fists and let a deep sigh out of his large nose.

Professor Ren had told you once what he can do to you, and if that day you would have stayed a bit longer in that classroom, you would have found out, but now you were here out in public. You knew he would not repeat himself again, and out of nowhere, you remembered his order.

Your shoulders held tight to your body, and you broke the eye contact.

"I just... I just don't know what - tarine tea is," you said in a shaky tone and bit your lip while looking down at your hands that were placed on the counter.

Any second, you knew he would say something that would provoke you. That would make you feel small and stupid. That would make you angry and say things you would usually never say to a teacher. But he wasn't a teacher now. He was a customer. A customer who could get you fired by manipulating Luke.

He was just like Sherlock Holmes, a master of manipulation, and it scared you to think that Professor Ren could harm your relationship with Luke.

He put his left arm on the bar and lowered his head like he was trying to see your eyes from below.

"How on earth did you get until your final year if you don't even know what tarine tea is?"

You lifted your eyes, and the fear vanished away. Professor Ren was challenging you. Provoking you. He wanted to know what you would respond to that.

You didn't know whether tartine was a leaf or some fruit. Sadly, the hat didn't give you the ability to search for a word like Google does.

A long silence hung in the air. You looked at the people around him and side-eyed Professor Ren, who was studying your lips, and when he realized that nothing came out of it, he proceeded.

"You're a bartender. And obviously not a good one." he continued, testing your limits. "I wonder what you had to do with that mouth of yours to get this job."

You were speechless. What on earth was his problem? You thought about all the bad words you could insult him with, but you didn't dare to pronounce the risky words that slowly built up on your tongue.

It would be a dream to remain unhurt by his cruel, manipulative way of insulting people, and you wanted so badly to tell him your own opinion. But you knew you couldn't win this without getting into trouble.

He knew what he had to do and say to get you off the track. To hurt you verbally. He was good at that. Your heart started racing, and your anger increasing, but you remained calm. You would not give him what he wanted.

"Can you read?" you said unexpectedly.

"What did you just say?"

His eyes widened, and his brows knitted. He didn't expect you to question his knowledge, especially not his reading knowledge, but you were not stupid. You wouldn't fall into his sneaky trap. After all, he had a doctorate in psychology, a complicated and frustrating major that was not meant for the weak.

You stepped a foot back. "You see, we have a board hanging there." You pointed your finger at the brown board hanging on the grey stone wall behind you on the left. "It shows what kind of drinks we have. Your tartine tea is not on the list, so it means we don't have it," you explained to him as if you were teaching the rules to a 5-year-old. Two can play this game.

"It's taRine, not tarTine," he pronounced. "A tarTine is a French slice of bread with different toppings like tomatoes and avocado. You can also put some other fancy spread on it."

A devilish smirk was visible on his face that lighted up his mood for outsmarting you, and his big eyes bored into yours that made you nervous.

"Whatever," you snapped back. "This may exist in America but not here."

You had lost this round, and you were disappointed in yourself. Your embarrassment would prove to Professor Ren that his conclusion about you was right. At that moment, you imagined being Ron that was lectured by Hermione that it's LeviOsa and not LeviosAR. Professor Ren's feather would also be the first one flying in the air.

1-3 for the cruel professor.

Within less than ten minutes, he gained three points. He insulted your bartender skills, questioned your stupidity, and possibly indirectly called you a whore. Pressure slowly built up on your chest. It was painful to admit, but he had hurt your self-confidence.

"Fine," he said and took his black leather wallet out of his jeans. "Then give me another bottle of water."

You were the rabbit, and Professor Ren was the turtle. The moral of the story was true. He gained more points by crushing you hard at once at the right moment. It was a better method than you just saying nonsense like that time in the classroom. It was stupid of you to humiliate him in front of the class. You just said it to sound cool in front of the other kids.

 _Look, that was the girl that answered back the most feared teacher in the school,_ you thought. You wondered if he would be nice to you if you had just shut your mouth and accepted your coffee lying in the trash.

When you took the two cold water bottles out of the fridge, you noticed how he impatiently started hitting the counter with the side of his credit card.

"Unfortunately, we don't accept credit cards," you reminded him with a fake half-smile.

"What is this place?" he raged in a loud tone. He lifted his hands in the air and smacked them loudly against his jeans.

The people in the room went silent and looked at him.

"It's written right next to the board, cash only," you said smoothly.

Even if you didn't want to make a scene, you desired to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Thank god, the counter separated you, or else you would probably be pinned to the wall with his huge hands around your neck. He wouldn't care about the people around him. He would strangle you until you turn blue, and even if you were already dead, he would continue.

"I don't have cash," he said with his nose burrowed in his wallet, desperately trying to find some shiny coins.

"Too bad. No cash, no drinks, you sassed."

Professor Ren held his gaze at you with no emotion in those sinister eyes. His lips stayed steady, and his brows were dry. His breath was oddly calm, his jaw clenched, and it was clear to all who saw him that he tried his best to not raise his voice at you.

"Ren," shouted a grating voice. It came from the distance of a red-haired, pale man in a black coat who approached Professor Ren.

"I could hear you from afar," Mr. Hux said as his gaze met yours. As he realized who you were, he raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Ah! Miss [Y/Surname]," he paused. "What a pleasant surprise. I did not expect you here."

One of the things you did not expect to see in your life was Mr. Hux and Professor Ren casually spending time together at a basketball game. They both were so different from each other. The difference between their height reminded you of Mike and Sullivan from _Monsters, Inc._

"They don't have your tarine tea, and they won't let me pay with my card. Do you have any cash?" Professor Ren asked Mr. Hux and looked at him like he was hopeless.

You could hear the emptiness in his voice. Of course, the tea was for Mr. Hux and not him.

Were you now on the same score as Professor Ren? 3-3 for both of you? Was he now the one who had lost his pride? He might have insulted you, but in the end, he was the one who had no cash to pay for his drinks. And no glasses to read on the board.

Your victory was ripped away from you when Mr. Hux took his small brown wallet out of his pocket. Instead of placing the coins on the counter, he handed them in Professor Ren's large hand.

Professor Ren sighed and stretched his large palm without looking at you over the bar. You reached with your hand to collect the money as swiftly your fingertips brushed unwantedly against his big warm thumb, and you both shared a glance. Your eyes sank into his eyes as if you were diving underwater, only that everything around was dark. He flinched at your cold, wet fingertips and took a step back.

"Let her keep the change," Professor Ren concluded in an arrogant tone. He raised his chin with his eyes still glued to yours and set his shoulders back. "The little witch needs it more than you."

Mr. Hux nodded, and they both walked away from the bar. How nice of him to tip you.

"Enjoy the game," you called after them.

Mr. Hux and Professor Ren stopped in their way and turned their body around.

"Of course, we will. Today is the last day of the Resistance," Mr. Hux insisted proudly and lifted his chin. "The first order has them tied at the end of the string."

You had a different view on this game.

"The Resistance will not be intimidated by the First Order," you justified for them on which side you're on.

Disgust was visible in Mr. Hux's green eyes. Your opinion and your belief for hope in the so-called Resistance scum like the First Order prefers to call them was ironic to him. If he was the one who handed you the money, he would disinfect his hands afterward.

Mr. Hux looked at Professor Ren like he wondered whether he heard the same thing.

"Pathetic," hissed the British snake with his tongue pressed on his teeth.

In contrast to Mr. Hux, Professor Ren looked not impressed. His eyes extended, and a small gap was seen between his lips. He cleared his throat, turned his cold shoulder to you, and disappeared with Mr. Hux in the sports hall where the game was taking place.

You didn't like the First Order. No matter what team was playing, all the players acted like hungry hyenas craving for blood and bones. Not to mention the club itself was arrogant and power-hungry.

"People that support the First Order are fanatics and evil," assumed Luke on the first day of your job. The First Order never played the right way. The captain of the Stormtroopers was Ms. Phasma. She was a tall woman with short blond hair and blue eyes, who once was your PE teacher in your first year in the Catholic School. You believed she was manipulating the jury. The only reason the First Order has come so far was because of her.

Your fists were hidden behind your back. If you had a glass in your hand, it would shatter into pieces, and even if you started bleeding, you would do nothing about it.

An unknown hand touched your shoulder and made your heart stop beating for a moment. You shrugged, turned around, and saw an old man with short brown hair, a big nose, and a dark grey mustache smiling at you with his white teeth. His yellow sweater made his almond brown eyes look soft and friendly. Your jaw went slack, and your mouth loosely hung open as you tried to speak.

"Are you Lando Calrissian?"

"Depends. Are you a fan or a bounty hunter?" the man joked delightfully in a hoarse voice.

You laughed in return and shook his hand as you introduced yourself properly.

"Why do I have the feeling that I've seen you already?" Lando asked as if he was trying to remember who you remind him of.

"Because she's here with me," Luke declared, descending from the stairs. He smelled like old cigarettes as he went into a long hug with Lando.

"Heh. Been a long time." Lando clapped on Luke's shoulder. "I knew you'd come back sooner or later. Finally got sick of Han, didn't—"

"Oh, shut up, will ya?" Luke cut Lando's sentence before he could finish and stepped back from him. "The game is about to start, and you're still here, distracting the girl from doing her job."

Lando Calrissian was the charming basketball coach from the men's Premier League of the Resistance club. Although he was a retired pilot, he still had enough power to lead a whole basketball team. Until now, you've never met him in person, but you heard many stories about him and his adventures from his youth when he used to be a gambler who traveled around the world.

"Right," Lando nodded and chewed his inner lip. "Well, it was very nice to meet you [Y/N]." He bent down like a gentleman, gave Luke a fist bump, and made his way down the hall.

"Wait!" you exclaimed.

As Lando turned around, Luke crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Is it true? What they say about you?" you asked him.

Lando took a deep breath, chuckled while shaking his head, looked at the floor, and then back at you.

"Everything you've heard about me is true."

Not that long ago, there was a rumor going around that Lando's only daughter joined the military when she had just finished college. She loved basketball just like her father did but never played in the team he supported. It broke her father's heart because he never saw and heard from her ever again.

You could not imagine what it would be like to lose a child you loved with every single heartbeat. That child was your world, and suddenly it was taken away from you. The only thing you had left was the memory.

Luke sighed deeply and violently opened the fridge. Something was bothering him that hadn't bothered him before. You wondered if it had something to when Lando started talking about a person whose name you had already forgotten. Luke had interrupted him and immediately changed the subject, which was so unlike him. Usually, he would talk for hours with his old friends, yet he acted weird. But that was none of your business. If Luke had something to tell you, he would. You learned to not bother him with questions where you knew he wouldn't answer.

"Go watch the game," he gurgled while taking a large sip of his beer. "I'll take care of the bar."

You nodded with a small smirk, corrected your hat position, and walked through the entry door of the sports hall like the proud and confident Resistance supporter you were.

* * *

Players from both teams were running after the bouncing basketball as if their lives depended on it. Spectators were yelling and cheering from the stadium seats. After a while, Luke joined you and stood with you at the entrance of the sports hall. During the game, he criticized the players from the Final Order.

Your brain was supposed to be focused on the game, yet your eyes went to the blue stadium seats, searching for Mr. Hux. Where he was, was also Professor Ren. Your gaze immediately had found Mr. Hux's black coat and his red hair. He stood there not far away from you and screamed his soul out of his body. Next to him, Professor Ren sat quietly with his eyes fixed on the game.

Shocking to say it, but from the profile with his aquiline nose, he was far more attractive than you thought. With his soft jawline and the sweet black waves, he looked kind of peaceful. His full lips were pressed together, and his left leg was shaking while he rubbed his palms against each other. He was handsome in a way that no other man was. It made no sense, but there was something about him that screamed for attention and mystery. The more you stared at him, the more you felt resentment itching out of you.

"We won, we won!" Luke yelled and raised his left hand in the air.

You didn't realize how the Resistance got their final point since you were too busy observing your psychology professor. The scoreboard showed 72-70. The first time in all those years had the Resistance won against the First Order. What a relief and a great way to celebrate the beginning of the basketball season. 

* * *

"Every Resistance supporter gets a free beer!" Luke announced. He stood drunk and wobbly on the chair behind the bar.

Never in your life have you seen so much craziness going on in the bar about a game. There was a lot of work for you to do and a lot of calculating as well. While the First Order went home defeated with long faces throwing hate comments on the Resistance, the others didn't pay attention. They were too busy drinking their free beer.

Your headache was slowly turning into a migraine. The smell of alcohol, the sound of beer glasses clinking against each other, and the loud conversations of various people made it impossible for you to continue working. You were tired and exhausted. Not to mention that it was already 10:00pm, and you would have the first two hours of psychology tomorrow morning only gave you more headaches.

You recognized the red hair of Mr. Hux. He stood next to a stand table with a grumpy face and spoke to Ms. Phasma. Professor Ren was nowhere to be seen.

"Are you daydreaming about your lover?" Luke hinted and wrapped his left arm around your shoulder.

His mouth was so close to your face, you could smell the alcohol all over him. His t-shirt had a big wet spot from all the drinks he took, and the foam of beer was visible on his beard. He was talking nonsense, and when he was drunk, he suddenly became a psychologist in solving relationship problems.

The word lover made you think about Vicrul. At some point, Luke was right. Vicrul was going to be your lover, but only on stage. A relationship with him in real life would presumably be toxic and unstable. He would cheat on you multiple times, and you would cry yourself to sleep every night. Something you really didn't plan on doing. Would Luke like him if he was going to be your lover in real life? Probably not.

"No, I was actually dreaming about my shift being over," you protested.

He looked with his deep-set eyes at you like he knew you were lying. You felt guilty for not having fun with him and the others.

You observed Luke struggling to speak through a hiccup as he stroked his beard.

"Sure, you were, Granny."

You washed your hands and neglected his comment. Drunk Luke could sometimes be really annoying.

"Alright, I'm going to take the bus and drive home."

"Oh no, I don't want you to drive home alone," Luke exclaimed. "What about your mom, can't she come and pick you up?"

"No, she's already sleeping at this time. I don't want to wake her up, and my phone battery is dead." You wrinkled your tired eyes as you remembered you had mascara on and puffed. "Luke, it's no big deal I can take-"

"Then we're going to find you a free driver," he suspended and walked straight in the direction of Ms. Phasma and Mr. Hux.

One time when you saw Ms. Phasma for the first time out of school training The Stormtroopers in the sports hall, you immediately told Luke about it. "We live in a small world," Luke had replied to that.

You knew she was a strict and respected woman in your school, but you didn't imagine her being a basketball coach for the First Order as her hobby. Although because of her height, you could imagine that many people suggested to her playing basketball.

Luke was definitely drunk and not in his right state of mind because he didn't like talking to people who supported the First Order. Although you would have no problem with Ms. Phasma driving you home.

Your scores in sports were impressive, although basketball was not your thing. Ms. Phasma treated every student the same way. Giving compliments to the students wasn't her thing, and now that you thought about it, she reminded you of Professor Ren. Both being tall, strict, and mysterious. What a perfect combination.

You watched Luke, who tried to stand up straight with his head held high at Ms. Phasma, who had bent her head down to hear Luke better. Next to her, he looked like a small garden gnome. Mr. Hux looked at Luke like every person does when they see drunk people on the street. He waved his hand in front of his nose in a desperate attempt to escape the strong alcohol from Luke. His gaze fell on Mrs. Phasma, and his lips moved as he added something to the conversation.

You looked at the clock that hung on the wall and bit your inner lip. Somehow you were scared that you would be rejected and would therefore miss your bus. After all, it was 10:20pm on a Sunday. The last bus would drive away in six minutes.

Finally, Luke returned to the bar.

"All done, kid," he gulped and twisted his lips into a wry smile. "You can go with this... I forgot her name."

You loved how Luke would do everything to keep you safe even if you weren't the small girl anymore that he used to read DC comics to at night. Despite his strong smell of alcohol and cigarettes, you thanked him and gave him a hug. You would have to explain to your mother later why your clothes smelled like this. Your mother hoped that by spending more time with him, your connection with him would improve, and you wouldn't repeat the same mistake as she once did.

Luke was like a grandfather to you who belonged to your family, although he was not related to you in any way. He never talked about his family, so you just hoped someone cared about him as he did about you.

In the end, friends are one of the most important members of your life. They are the ones who support you when you say goodbye to your first family, and in the end, they become the people you call your new home.

You took your bag and went up the stairs together behind Ms. Phasma and Mr. Hux. You turned around one more time and observed the people around the bar. Somehow you hoped to find the person you were searching for, but you had to accept he was long gone.

The entrance door opened, and the strong wind blew so hard that your hat almost flew away. It was quite dark and cold outside for September, and the streetlights were off. You put your hands in your pocket to keep them warm and approached Ms. Phasma, who was waiting for something on the sidewalk while Mr. Hux smoked a cigarette.

"Thank you for giving me a ride Ms. Phasma," you smiled and glanced up at her. "I really appreciate that."

_Damn, this woman is enormously tall._

"I am not the driver," Ms. Phasma mentioned in her honeyed British accent. "I'm a passenger, just like you."

"Oh..., so it's Mr. Hux."

You turned around and saw how Mr. Hux threw his cigarette on the floor and stepped on it with his black boot. He straightened his long black coat and walked up towards you. He looked down at the street with his hands crossed behind his back. Wasn't it a bit too warm for a coat?

"Thank you, Mr. Hux, for driving me home, I don't live far away," you affirmed with a smile. You wanted to let him know that even if he knew that you didn't like him and his subject, you still acknowledged his kindness for driving you home.

"What are you talking about, Miss.[Y/Surname]," he responded and gave you the same look when you told him you support the Resistance.

You licked your lips and stared into the far distance. You thought you misunderstood something and wondered if they ordered a taxi or an Uber to drive you all home.

From the darkness, you viewed how a big car pulled up at the sidewalk near you. The flashing lights made you slightly go blind for a second and were nearly on the same level as your head.

It was a beautiful dynamic black Range Rover that looked expensive as hell. The big, tinted windows made it impossible for you to see who the driver was. It scared you to touch the car. You imagined what it would cost you if you scratched it accidentally with your nails. For the next 40 years, you would try paying for the repair, and it would still not be enough.

You reached with your hand for the handle to open the door at the front seat when you touched Mr. Hux's cold, pale hand. The two of you shared a competitive glance at each other, both holding onto the handle. None of you moved your hand away, and his eyes were fixed at you like a snake before it attacks. An eye battle between a teacher and a student. Who gets to sit next to the mysterious driver?

"Ladies first," you reminded Mr. Hux in a sneaky tone, letting him know that this was his chance to reveal what of a gentleman he really was if he would let you sit in the front seat.

"So much to thank you, Mr. Hux," he commented and took his hand away from the handle.

He straightened his collar of his coat and gave you a serious look as he opened the backseat door to get into the car.

You looked back at the building where Luke and Lando were still inside, celebrating the joy of the Resistance. You opened the passenger door, sat down on the black leather seat, put your bag between your feet, closed the door, and put on your seat belt. The car smelled like a mixture of leather and embers.

You turned your head with a big smile to greet the driver, who was waiting for you to look at him. Your smile fainted away, and you swallowed thickly.

There he was, the man you wanted to see so badly, after the game.

His dark eyes were full of questions. It was clear that he did not expect to see you inside his car, and neither did you.

"What is she doing here?" Professor Ren demanded and turned his body to the back with his arm leaning on the headset to look at Mr. Hux at the left and Ms. Phasma on the right.

"The bartender asked us to drive her home so she wouldn't have to take the bus," Ms. Phasma answered. "Since he couldn't do it because he was too drunk, I thought since she's a student at our school, we could give her a ride."

"You probably forgot to mention that I am the one who has to drive you all home. Including her," Professor Ren declared unpleasantly.

You have never felt more uncomfortable in your life than sitting inside of a car full of teachers who cheered for the First Order. Slowly you took off your hat and placed it on your lap. Only if Luke and Lando knew.

It was a nice gesture of Ms. Phasma having empathy for you and taking you with her. If you knew that the driver would be Professor Ren, you would rather drive with a drunk Luke and get into an accident.

"It's okay, I- I guess I just take the bus," you said and reached to unclip the seatbelt.

You glanced at Professor Ren, who was bothered at your existence. You turned your head around and saw Mr. Hux sitting behind you. His elbow was propped on the armrest, and he rubbed his eyelids with his fingers.

"Please do that."

"Ren!" Mr. Hux huffed. He straightened up and exchanged looks between you and Professor Ren. "For god's sake, she's a naive student of ours who doesn't live far away." He pointed with his hand at you.

"Hey! I am not-"

"She can easily get kidnapped at this time," he continued ignoring you. "Do you really want her to take the bus alone?"

"If you care about her safety so much, you are free to join her."

There is no way Professor Ren wanted to keep your DNA on his leather seat.

"It's too late," you remarked and looked down at the modern GPS screen of the car. "The bus is gone."

Professor Ren looked at Ms. Phasma, who had closed her eyes and leaned her head back, disregarding this unnecessary drama. He glanced at you with his hazel-brown eyes and tried to read your thoughts through your eyes to make sure you were telling the truth. He rolled his eyes, turned around, put his big hands on the steering wheel, took a deep breath, twisted the ignition key, and drove off without saying a word.

If Ms. Phasma had joined this conversation, everyone would be quiet by now. She just wanted to rest after finding out that the team she had trained so hard for the last few years only lost by two points for the first time against a club she didn't expect to win.

You watched out of the window and felt relief knowing you won't get kicked out of the car. It was a bit weird that Professor Ren would now drive you home. If you would tell your friends about how Mr. Hux protected you from Professor Ren, they would never believe you.

Though, you didn't need Mr. Hux's protection. You could handle your psychology professor on your own. Thinking back at the conversation you had with Professor Ren at the bar told you something in your gut it would be better to just be quiet now and let him drive you home.

Everything would be fine, and no worry needed. Right?

4-3 for the naive girl.

* * *

Nobody talked during the ride.

Mr. Hux stared out the window with a mischievous look, and Ms. Phasma had been casually asleep. It was a defeat for them that the First Order had lost, and you were affected by their upsetting energy.

You loved darkness in the night. It was quiet, mysterious, and somehow peaceful. You stared out the window and saw large trees coming towards you. There was complete silence. Even the radio was turned off.

The only thing you heard was Professor Ren's breath, but you didn't dare to look at him out of fear that he would throw you out of the car if you just glanced at him. He was not happy to see you spreading your bacteria in his fancy car. You imagined what it would be like to get to know him differently. If there was a reason why he was like that.

Maybe his great love broke his heart, or one of his family members died, and he couldn't handle the death. Perhaps, he was just a sadist who enjoyed hurting people. Maybe he didn't know how to communicate with other people, but then you asked yourself why he became a professor in the first place. Something told you he was dragged coming to the game tonight.

You hadn't noticed how the car stopped. You had arrived at a big, grey house. You turned around and wondered if Mr. Hux or Ms. Phasma would climb out.

Ms. Phasma gazed at you with her beautiful heaven blue eyes and gave you a little smile as she climbed out of the car and said goodbye. She didn't show her anger or disappointment. She wouldn't let it out when other people were around her.

She took out her keys and got into the house, and just like that, the ride went on.

From behind, you heard how Mr. Hux slid in the middle of the seats with his arms on his legs so he could see you and Professor Ren at the same time.

You remembered the long street as you passed the small, rich houses. Usually, old, retired seniors lived here who woke up at 5:00am and started cleaning their garden because they had nothing else to do. You put your head back and closed your eyes. You thought about your warm, comfortable bed waiting for you

"What do you think? Are monsters good at math?" Mr. Hux asked out of nowhere and crashed you out of your dream.

You frowned and slowly opened your eyes. The pain in your head was drilling into you and made it impossible for you to concentrate on an answer. Professor Ren didn't bother to answer either.

"Not unless you count, Dracula," Mr. Hux laughed and slapped his hand on his knee.

Either your competence in mathematics was so bad that you didn't understand the joke, or the joke was so bad that even Professor Ren didn't laugh. Like through telepathy, you and he turned your heads to the side and exchanged looks. Your eyes indicated that you both shared the same opinion. Who would have thought that?

"Wait, I have a better one," Mr. Hux tried hopefully to bring the mood on a funnier level. "Why are obtuse angles so depressed?"

And once again, you and Professor Ren did not reply. You had a reason not to answer because it was too late for your brain to understand what an obtuse angle was. However, you were convinced that Professor Ren knew the answer but had fun letting Mr. Hux down.

You felt sorry for Mr. Hux because he really tried to improve the mood, but in the side mirror, you noticed how his smile dropped, and his sad eyes sank to the floor as he leaned back on the seat.

"It's because- they are never right," Mr. Hux muttered to himself.

He had lost his pleasure in telling the joke and sank back to the hole where you and Professor Ren were comfortable stuck.

The car stopped in front of a small black elegant house, and in the beautifully decorated front garden stood a male sculpture. In front of the metallic door rested a sweet ginger cat with a similar color to Mr. Hux's hair. The house resembled a closed laboratory that was very private with white curtains on the windows.

Mr. Hux opened the door and climbed out of the car without saying goodbye.

"My offer still stands if you want a psychological evaluation from me," Professor Ren recalled with a slightly self-important tone. His eyes fixed on the rearview mirror. "And please be so kind, and greet Millicent from me."

Mr. Hux nodded with a false grin and stepped out of the car.

It was hard for you to imagine that a significant-other was on Mr. Hux's side, so you assumed that Professor Ren meant the fluffy milk lover.

It made sense why he was so mean to you. Like Ms. Phasma, Professor Ren treated everyone the same way. He was rude to his students and to his co-worker. However, you liked Ms. Phasma and Mr. Hux now much more than your psychology professor.

Professor Ren still looked through the window at Mr. Hux when he entered the house. You were not petrified of sitting alone in a car with your favorite professor. At least this was what you had told yourself before he turned out to be your driver, who was now alone in a car with you. At night.

You turned your face to Professor Ren and wondered what his next step would be. Would he throw you out of the car, and you would walk home, or would he kill you right now and bury you in the woods. It would be a great opportunity but for sure a dirty one.

He turned his face to you and watched how you tried not to look him into his eyes.

"It's just us now," he disclosed as if you haven't noticed yet.

You folded your hands on your hat and pressed your brows together. His beautifully tensed autumn eyes made you shiver and brought goosebumps to your arms.

How could a human you dislike so much make you feel a certain way by only looking at you?

Your headache slowly began to disappear, and your brain created false images of how he would cut your body in pieces as _Hannibal_ did. You probably were already so tired that you started to hallucinate, but it seemed to you like he looked down at your lips as he opened his mouth.

"Give me your address," he demanded in a smoky tone. "Unless you want to walk from here."

You relaxed, took a deep breath, and gave him your address. He typed it in his GPS and drove off. The woman's voice from the GPS said that you lived only five minutes away from Mr. Hux, which surprised you because you had never seen him walking around the neighborhood.

During the drive, Professor Ren was quiet with his eyes fixated on the road. You had to admit he was a good driver who followed the traffic rules well. At every red light, he stopped and always adapted to the permitted speed.

Your mind was full of questions that you really wanted to ask him.

_Where have you been? Why did you leave school although I saw you in the morning? Are you still my professor? Why are you so rude to me? Why do I feel an unknown strange feeling when you're around me?_

Fuck it.

"Why did you do it?" you asked him directly.

"Woah, Woah, Woah, slow down," he objected loudly. "What are you accusing me of?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

"I do?" He sounded surprised like he didn't hear the news. His eyes almost popped out when he glanced at you. "I didn't know I could read minds."

"There was a little accident at school," you said thickly. "Someone destroyed the elevator the same day when you suddenly disappeared."

"And you assume it was me," he smirked. He knew full well what you had in mind.

"What happened? Where did you go?" you continued investigating.

"It's absolutely none of your business."

You wanted to say something, but you reminded yourself not to speak without thinking first. You didn't know what you should say to that or if you had to say something at all. Professor Ren was a psychologist, so he knew how to reply to a question without looking and sounding suspicious.

Dalai Lama once quoted, _"Silence is sometimes the best answer."_

Suddenly the car stopped, and you noticed you had arrived home. The drive went by fast, and you were glad to finally get some fresh air again because the smell of leather was unbearable.

You put on your hat, took your bag, and looked at your professor one last time. Before you opened the door, you hoped he would tell you something even if it was an insult.

"Well, thank you for the ride."

"Aren't you going to apologize?"

You raised your eyebrows and extended your eyes in disbelief at what he just said.

"Even if I had a reason to apologize, I would never do it. Not to you."

That was a promise.

Was he serious? If he really expected an apology from you after all the things he said to you, then he was the most ignorant person you've ever met. You did and said nothing wrong. You just always defended yourself. He was the one who had to apologize.

You told yourself that you would respect him as a professor, and you felt ashamed for treating him in class the way you did, but it was he who continued the war. You wanted to stop whatever it was that happened that day in the classroom, but your pride and stubbornness didn't allow you to surrender.

His eyes were still fixed on the windshield, and his hands were tightly wrapped around the steering wheel as he exhaled from his nose.

You got a feeling that he was imagining the steering wheel was your neck. Without saying anything, you climbed out and smashed the door. Maybe a bit too hard.

It was so cold that you played with the thought of coming to school tomorrow with your winter coat as you walked around the car.

While you tried to find your house keys, you heard the sound from behind that the car did when the window went down. You turned around and saw how Professor Ren looked at you with his dark eyes as if he wanted to warn you.

"I will get you to apologize to me," he declared coolly.

It sounded like a goal he wanted to achieve in his life, and it frightened you because you had no idea how he planned on doing it. He reminded you in that moment of Joe Goldberg from the Netflix show you recently watched called _You_. If he wanted an apology from you so badly, he should be the one to apologize first.

"We'll see."

You spat back his own words at him as you turned around and angrily closed the front door behind you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please remember to leave a kudo if you like the story so far and if you have time maybe write a comment, because believe me when I tell you receiving them is literally the best thing ever😍
> 
> Please wear a mask for your safety and the safety of others! Kisses :*


	8. La Femme Fatale

The sound of the rapidly clicking of your blue pen calmed your excitement.

A hazy middle of September was outside the door, and from your seat, you observed the little, clear raindrops draining on the window. They looked peaceful, like your inner expectations for your mark in your psychology test. 

You could sense your result but not yet see.

After the accident with the elevator, Professor Ren came back to school the next week as if nothing had happened. Everyone forgot the story and buried it under the ground. Finn wanted to play detective but quickly let it go.

Professor Ren always held his classes in the order in which he was organized. Sometimes he used words you were sure even Rose didn't know. His lessons were hard to understand but not impossible.

Your mind settled in thoughts about how his stupid face looked like when he sat there a couple of days ago, correcting your test. You imagined him being impressed and, at the same time, surprised by how you solved the tricky questions correctly. Professor Ren would realize his mistake and apologize to you for how faulty it was to underestimate your abilities in school.

Behind you sat Rose, reading " _Pride and Prejudice_ ," the book you still haven't touched, since Ms. Rey announced that you would read it in class.

You didn't need to read it all over again. You knew the story. A poor, smart girl falls in love with an arrogant, handsome man and blah, blah, blah...

The heels of Professor Ren's black leather shoes rattled on the wooden floor as he walked through the classroom. He was holding the corrected tests and distributed them to each student without giving them any feedback.

Suddenly he stood in front of you, and you couldn't help but smile, waiting for him to apologize. You were optimistic. A little smile couldn't hurt him.

But looking at his stiff expression, the disappointment in his eyes behind his glasses was more evident to see than a raindrop. He put your test on your desk and walked to the blackboard.

You lowered your head, and with crinkled eyes, Professor Ren's beautiful handwriting was visible in red, except the number on top of the right side was the opposite of beautiful. Your mouth went slowly wide open, and your stomach curled up, nearly making you throw up.

You felt what you saw in Professor Ren's eyes.

Shame. Frustration. Failure.

"I'm not impressed. I knew you would disappoint me," Professor Ren said coolly, face directed to the class.

Casually he leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head.

You had a good feeling when you first handed in your test, but now it looked like you couldn't even trust your inner feelings anymore. You did not expect your test to be full of your professor's red marker. He either had no idea how to count or how to properly correct. You were sure about that. It couldn't be because of you. You were sure he intended to give you such a mark out of pure despise for you and your presence. No other explanation was reasonable. You had prepared for this test to prove to Professor Ren how false his assumption about you was, and now your result confirmed his theory. All he said about you that day at the bar was true. One minus point for you, so 3-3 for both of you. Again.

From behind, you heard Rose sniffing her red nose with tons of tissues on her table. You weren't the only one who had failed the test, but you were sure that Rose only got a 1.6 and not like you a 3.5

You turned around and behind Rose in the back seemed like Finn and Poe didn't even care what marks they got. You were impressed by how fast their friendship developed. They both were laughing and comparing their answers on the test. It made you even laugh. Although Finn wasn't stupid. He was nearly half as good as Rose. Next to them, you felt pretty brainless with your satisfying grades.

You promised your mother that your marks would improve, and you would study hard. But with this test, you had disappointed your goals, your mother, and your psychology professor.

The bell rang, and everyone left the class, except you. Your legs didn't have the strength to get up and move. You smoothed down your skirt and noticed a small hole in your tights. Silently you cursed and rubbed your forehead. You needed answers about your mark, and the only human being who could explain them to you was the selfish man across the line of your desk.

It looked like Professor Ren wasn't planning on leaving the classroom either. The sleeves from his baby-blue shirt were rolled up and brought out his dark hair on his muscular arms, and his black trousers balanced with his hair color.

You had seen this scene before. It looked familiar. The last time you were alone with Professor Ren in a room, it ended up with your back against the lockers. Hopefully, today it wouldn't end up with you hanged on the door.

On his table lay piles of papers. Head burrowed, and with a concentrated gaze, he wrote something on them.

"The lesson ended almost five minutes ago, Miss [Y/Surname]. You can go cry about your mark at home," he commented without empathy. With his heavy eyes, he didn't try to look up at you, and he wouldn't.

Furious, you rose from your seat.

"I want to know why."

You tight in your lips and tried not to swallow the confidence you always had when you didn't accept your mark on the other subjects. But this time was different. Arguing with him would take a long time, and in the end, he would probably reduce your mark to worse.

"Sit back down," he ordered calmly, still not looking at you.

The confidence was gone in a heartbeat, and like a dog, you obeyed and slowly sat back on your chair. Professor Ren lifted his head, raised his eyebrows, and leaned back with crossed arms and a heavy breath.

"Why what?"

"Why I got such a bad mark," you complained as you handed him your paper. "I believe you've made an error grading my test."

He took his glasses off and leaned forward with haunting eyes. "Watch your tone," he said gravely and pointed with the temple of his glasses at you. "I don't make mistakes."

He put his glasses next to his documents, rubbed his tired eyes, and twisted dubious the paper around.

"Have you read through it?"

You both knew the answer. No, you didn't. If you would, you probably wouldn't have reacted that way either, so you dropped your eyes and shook your head.

"That's what I thought."

He leaned back, crossed one leg over another with his fingers touching his lips in deep convictions.

"If you had, you would have noticed that you forgot to look at the back of the paper."

Your gaze jumped back to his. Of course, you had forgotten the back of the test. That's why you had finished the test so quickly. Rose was still writing when you had already handed it in **.**

Shamefully you looked to the left at the window and noticed the rain getting heavier and louder. You didn't have an umbrella with you. Only your hat could cover some of the drops, so you hoped that the rain outside was over soon.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and placed your hands on the table, observing your fingernails.

"That's not the only reason why the mark is so low, am I right, professor?"

He nodded and propped himself on his elbows with his hands pressed together.

"You didn't learn the characteristics of behaviorism, and your conclusion to classical conditioning was weak. Every question was answered with no critical thinking and no details."

He flung the paper to your desk and tapped his fingers on the table. He enjoyed watching your misery that was slowly showing on your cheeks.

Weak was not a word to describe you. You weren't weak. But in his eyes, you were.

"Pavlov would be ashamed of you," he added. He straightened up and started packing his thick folders.

The conversation was over. Now it was your turn to accept your failure and move on. You weren't impressed by Professor Ren's insults. You were already used to them.

You rolled your shoulders and scanned with your eyes the sorrowful test that lay on your desk. Professor Ren thought he was right, but you strongly believed he was wrong. Your dislike for him and his way of showing you how much he felt the same way about you made it harder for you to imagine that in the end, it was your fault and not his.

And that made you bite your inner cheek until you could slowly taste the blood on your tongue. Not seeing the questions on the back of the paper was stupid of you, and you admitted your own fault. But for the rest, you deserved better than what he gave you, and as stubborn as you were, you kept assuming he graded you wrong on purpose to teach you a lesson.

To not mess with him. To finally give up and admit that you lost this war. And that motivated you to keep playing the little game.

You got up, put your bag on the desk, and started packing just like Professor Ren.

"Well, at least, Pavlov would never grad me wrong just because he hates me," you replied sharply.

He stopped for a moment as his jaw tightened, and a small evil smirk was visible.

"Blaming other people for your own mistakes is an evident sign that you avoid taking responsibility for your own failure. And you're avoiding some truth about yourself."

If you thought your mouth couldn't fall lower than it already did, to your

surprise, it could. You felt exposed in so many ways. Like, a naked, plastic skeleton standing in a classroom full of students.

Compared to the heavy rain outside, it didn't even look close to how you felt inside. It was like a mix of storms and a furious volcano that was ready to explode. Before you could blink an eye, the loud knock on the door interrupted your tongue.

You quickly turned your head to the side and recognized Ms. Rey, who was standing in the doorway. By the look of her face, she was curious, as if she wondered why there were a student and a teacher alone, standing in a classroom after school.

"Excuse me, am I interrupting?"

"No, no, of course not. Please come inside, Rey," Professor Ren answered kindly. "Miss. [Y/Surname] was just about to leave anyway."

Your eyes and brows spread wide open. The tight breath full of anger vanished away. It surprised you to hear him speaking with such a kind and soothing tone to another human being. It's like he was a completely different type of person. Like he had switched from a horrible troll to a delightful fairy.

You took it as a chance to put on your hat, grab your bag and just leave. Your eyes were narrowed on the floor when you hurriedly passed by Ms. Rey, who came towards you with a gentle smile.

Usually, you would greet Ms. Rey and return the smile like you always did when you saw her in the hallway. But you didn't feel like smiling.

You simply felt like throwing yourself on your bed and wrapping yourself up in a sushi roll with your warm, cozy blankets. You would make yourself a yummy hot chocolate and watch your comfort movie.

Your mother was still out of the country, so you had no one to go home to who would hug you tight and tell you it's okay, and everything will work out in the end.

* * *

[Song: Wake Up Alone - Amy Winehouse](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bS8-qQojlhA&list=RDMMbS8-qQojlhA&start_radio=1)

...

The trip to your home on the bus went by quick. At this time, the 7th graders would climb on the bus like a crowd of wolves. They had nothing better to do than being loud and behaving like unrespectful, little gangsters. They thought putting their dirty shoes on another seat made them look cool.

But thanks to your headphones and Amy Winehouse, you wouldn't have to listen to their bullshit. You watched outside the window, not like you would see anything other than rain and fog, and thought about your lousy mark, graded by your terrible professor.

Your mood was melting like butter that lay too long in the sun. You looked at your phone and noticed how Finn send you a notification, who asked you how you did in the test.

You scoffed, ignored the message, and just kept looking out of the window. You had no interest in talking about your test, and neither your beloved psychology professor. You only wanted to drown in the song with empty thoughts and no worries.

At least for the rest of the week, the only chance to see Professor Ren was in the hallway. For now, you wouldn't hear his name again for four days, and that sounded like a long, enjoyable time.

Lastly, you arrived at home. You stood in front of the entrance door and looked around if somebody was near you, watching you from afar. You lifted the fuzzy carpet from the floor, picked up the key, and pressed it into the keyhole.

The idea of keeping a key under the doormat was risky. But if you would lose it, you had no idea who to go to when your mother wasn't home. Staying under the bridge and drinking with the homeless wasn't a plan for you.

You pushed the door open, and suddenly the door jammed against something hard.

For a moment, you wondered if there was a chest of drawers behind the door that you never noticed before. When you squeezed in between the door, you had discovered four big suitcases lying behind it.

A smile formed on your lips, and your mind fell in peace. Mother was at home. Finally.

For a good month, she flew away like she always did for her job. You couldn't facetime with her because she didn't have time. To make it up to you, she sent you whenever you went to bed sweet goodnight messages.

You removed your headphones, took off your hat and your wet jacket, and took your bag upstairs. You couldn't wait to see your mother again and hug her tight while inhaling her Dior J'adore perfume.

"I don't know if we can trust her," exclaimed a voice that came from the

living room.

This voice did not belong to your mother. It was silvery and way too British.

Your steps became quieter, and you slowed down your speed. From the corner of the living room door, you tried to spy and recognize the person in your living room.

You saw the back of a woman with good posture. Her medium curled ebony brown hair was tied back in a fancy ponytail.

On the other side, you recognized your mother sitting on the couch with a glass of whisky in her hand.

Your mother never drank alcohol. So, this was the first red flag. The only time she drinks is when she's really stressed at work. This was extremely rare because she was well organized and did her job well. At least that's what you were told.

"A passionate, hard-working lassie," Luke said once.

When you wanted to take a small step forward, you did not notice that water was dripping from your clothes, and a small puddle was forming on the floor. Unconsciously you slid over the water and lost your balance. With your nose, you fell on the cold ceramic tiles right in front of the living room.

Ouch. You heard a little yelp of shock from your mother, who remained seated with her other hand in front of her mouth.

You straightened up a hand in the air. "I'm okay, Mom. I'm okay," you muffled from the floor.

The pain on your nearly naked knees was tender, and you guessed that the hole in your tights stretched out. With trembling legs, you stood up while gripping onto the door handle and touched your nose to secure that it was not broken. Thank god no blood to be seen.

You would really be a clumsy spy.

You raised your head and recognized a beautiful woman standing right in front of you. Judging by her appearance, she was probably in her late 40s, like your mother. But her incredibly symmetrical baby face and porcelain clear skin made her look younger.

She had high cheekbones with little bangs on her forehead that were tossed to one side, and her pouty lips were covered in a matte dark rose lipstick. With her kindly, eager blue eyes, she observed you. Her expressive brown eyebrows were probably the highlight of her face that made her stand out from all the other women in the world.

"Are you hurt?" she asked politely.

When you shook your head and peaked a smile, she raised one of her bushy brows. She didn't look convinced and put a hand on her tight while tilting her head. She moved to the side and made space for you to enter the room.

"Honey, I'm so happy to see you," your mother grinned as she walked to you. She gave you a welcoming, warm hug and didn't care that your clothes were all soaked.

You had missed her. You were used to her leaving you for months alone at home. You often wished that she would give up her job to spend more time with you. But you knew she would never leave a job that paid her a lot of money and gave you the life you had now.

You returned the hug and stayed with her in that position for a long minute. As she kissed you forcefully on the cheeks, you could smell her heavy breath of whisky entering your nose.

She took a step next to you and put her arm around your shoulders. She stretched out her other arm to present to you the woman you have never seen.

"Meet Qi'ra," announced your mother.

"You must be the girl I've heard so much about," remarked the elegant lady jokingly.

You had no idea what to answer to this statement. From all the new people you met over this month, the names were getting more unique. Kylo. Vicrul. Qi'ra. As if they came from another dimension.

She wore a tan jacket and a black leather skirt with long black boots, and her simple necklace matched perfectly with her silver earrings. She looked like what people would say a femme fatale.

There weren't many things your mother could have told her about you. Although she probably mentioned the famous story of you crashing your bike into the door of a car when you were only six years old. It was a painful experience and yet somehow also a funny one.

It was probably one of the reasons you still didn't have a driver's license. Your mother was afraid that one day you would make the same mistake again. Only this time, the chance of dying would be higher.

"There is something I need to tell you," your mother said in a low tone as she moved to face you. Gently she took your hands in hers and rubbed your knuckles with her thumbs. "Something important."

And whoops, your smile disappeared. Your mother was good at quickly changing the subject. Her unexpected change of tone made you worried. Suddenly, she sounded insecure. She couldn't look you straight in the eye. Whatever it was, she was afraid of it, and her eyes regularly bounced back to Qi'ra like she was unsure if she should tell you or not.

"I got myself in trouble. And because of that-"

Your mother paused in the sentence. The hesitation, to inform you, was tough for her. She was close to the edge of telling you. She was trying to push herself. She knew you had to know. You felt it. It was like a daughter instinct.

"You're in danger."

Well, this was not what you expected. A sudden coldness hit at the core. Your eyes froze open, and you raised your brows. Your mother was not the type of person who would joke around serious stuff. Especially when it came to your safety.

"I- I don't think I understand," you trembled.

The confusion could be heard in your voice. Many questions flew into your mind that you tried to explain yourself, but you couldn't. You had no idea where to start.

"What trouble? What are you talking about?"

Your mother took your cheeks in her hands as she looked at you. Her eyes were full of worry and sorrow. Her soft hands were warm, which made your cheeks burn with a mix of confusion and concern.

She tried to create a broken smile on her lips, and her little wrinkles appeared at the corners of her eyes, which were slowly filling up with shining tears. She looked one more time back at Qi'ra, who, with wide eyes, shook her head. Your mother's gaze jumped back to you, and the shine disappeared.

"I can't tell you what it is. At least not yet," she said abruptly. All of a sudden, her tone had changed.

"So, you're saying I'm in danger, but you can't tell me why?" you snarled.

That got out of hand very quickly. The situation became tenser for you. Your heart began to speed up, and you felt a heaviness arising in your lungs. You were filled with energy to know the answers to everything.

Her mother breathed and moved backward. As she passed Qi'ra, she signaled her to take over to speak. She sat down on the sofa and reached for her whiskey glass.

Qi'ra stepped closer to you and inhaled deeply.

"Listen, this is not a game. We're not certain what exactly is about to happen, but no matter where you go or what you do, you should limit your trust in people!" she declared firmly.

"And why are you here? If you say so, then why should I trust you, an unknown woman who just walked into my house?"

Your mother took a final sip from her whisky and loudly placed the glass back on the coffee table.

"Because she is the only person you can trust in the whole wide world, and there is no one to whom I trust my life more than her!" your mother shouted.

Something told you that it was not a good thing for your mother to drink.

She was starting to get annoyed by your curiosity and your will to know everything immediately. 

You shrugged, curled your lips, and stepped back.

"Your mother can be intimidating the moment she holds a bottle in her hands. That's never a good sign. In those moments, it's better to listen to her and not say anything. Believe me, I learned it the hard way," you remembered Luke telling you.

Earlier, you didn't understand what he meant, but now it was clear.

"Without her, I probably wouldn't-" she stopped for a brief second and looked at Qi'ra like she was more than relieved to know that she was here. By her side.

"Nevermind. I wish not to hear another word about this. To make it quick, Qi'ra will live here with us until this problem is solved," your mother confirmed. "End of discussion."

And it was indeed the end of the discussion. You had no idea what to say or what to do, so you kept on repeating Luke's words in your mind. Qi'ra would stay here and live with you and your mother in the same house you grew up in and eat from the same table.

You shouldn't have a problem with that, but you did. A foreign woman came into your house as if she just fell from the moon, and suddenly your mother drank alcohol, and you were in danger? 

Your mother didn't seem to have a doubt about her drunk decisions. In fact, she sounded more convinced of it when she was drunk than when she was sober. Maybe it was just your inner self-protection that made you not really trust Qi'ra and kind of dislike her. But then today, in your psychology class, you learned the lesson not to trust your feelings.

How can a woman who works in marketing be so much in danger that you got wrapped up in it? How can this all be so serious when your own mother can't even tell her own daughter what is going on?

It would be foolish of you to continue to argue or beg them to tell you. Not even your puppy eyes could make them change their mind. But maybe that was for the best.

You glanced at your mother one last time, who rested on the couch and held her heavy head in her hands. Qi'ra walked around the living room and admired your mother's snow globes collection. Whenever your mother traveled to another country, she brought back a snow globe from there.

The only thing you wanted now was to be left alone to procedure the unexpected pressure. You lifted your chin and deeply inhaled from your nose. You let out a small huff as you turned around and walked away. With heavy footsteps, you marched up the stairs to your room and slammed the door behind you, so everyone could hear and understand how you felt.

"Sooner or later, she has to know the truth, Qi'ra."

"I know. But for now, she shouldn't be aware of this information. What she doesn't know won't kill her."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to https://www.yodasdatapad.com/ages.html, Qi'ra is the same age as Han Solo in The Force Awakens, so in her 60s, but she will be in her late 40s in my story.
> 
> I am annoyed by it, and I'm sorry, but I was thinking of changing the name of the title again because my twisted mind came up with new ideas for the plot. I thought of maybe naming it "Morals of the Story"? What do you think? Should I keep it like this or should I change it? Please let me know :) 
> 
> Honestly, thank you for your patience. And thank you so much for all you beautiful people who read my story. I can't believe there are over 600 of you already. Time goes by fast. I know I update slow and I apologize for that. I promise I will try to do my best and create a writing schedule to update faster :) 
> 
> Sending much love!


	9. Rejections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!
> 
> Although the year 2021 has not started very well, *cough* "CAPITOL RIOTS" *cough*, I still wish that each and every one of you can shine this year and pursue your goals. It is a difficult time in which we live, and I hope you will stay safe and healthy. 
> 
> PLEASE REMEMBER. At the end of the tunnel, always shines the light. The best is yet to come. Don't let anything stop or demotivate you. Get up, put on a mask, and move on. 
> 
> If I somehow managed to not completely burn down my entire kitchen two days ago, then you can totally cook and bake like Gordon Ramsay or Jamie Oliver. Or whoever your favorite cook is.
> 
> You're the Supreme Leader of your own life. Never forget that. 
> 
> Quick note; This chapter is quite messy (you will understand why)
> 
> Enjoy ;)

"Are you okay?"  
  
A sweet voice woke you up.  
  
You had no idea how long Rose stood next to you, watching you sleep on your desk. You slowly lifted your head, rested it on your palm, and with your eyes closed, you gave her a nod with a little smile. 

"I wait for the caffeine to kick in."  
  
"You're drooling," Rose pointed out. 

Your eyes opened faster than the wind as you instantly began to wipe the drool from your mouth against your sleeves.

"You do know if Professor Ren sees you like this, he won't be pleased," she continued.  
  
You rolled your eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh.

"I'm not a jester who has to entertain the mighty King Ren just because I'm sitting in front of him. No matter what I do, he doesn't like it anyway, so at this point, I don't even care anymore."  
  
You knew Rose was only trying to be a good friend. But trying to warn you on an early Monday morning from the big, bad wolf who came through the opened door was not the best time.   
  
"Sit down, all of you, and open your books on page 66," Professor Ren ordered while he placed his bag on the table.   
  
The class became instantly quiet. Rose jumped back on her seat, and everyone did as the teacher told. You sat upright with your strengthless energy, took your book, and rested your chin on your palm while admiring the clock that hung on the wall.

Today wore your psychology professor all black. Black blazer, shirt, pants, and classy shoes. Ready to go to a funeral. He was freshly shaved, and his hair shined, possibly from the shampoo Rose wished to have. 

"Damn who died," you murmured. 

Professor Ren slammed the folder down on the table and awakened the caffeine in you. The burning fire that gushed in his eyes was clearly visible. He must have heard your dumb comment. You rubbed your eyes and looked at the clock again. 08:07 a.m. 

"Wait a minute, you're too early. We still have three minutes left before Headmaster Palpatine starts with his daily news and his prayers," you remarked.

Professor Ren took his glasses from his little pocket and put them on his nose. 

"If we start the lesson now, I'll let you leave the class three minutes earlier for the 15-minute break. Deal?" he proposed.

His voice was surprisingly calm and noble. You looked around as the entire class agreed with his suggestion and thanked him for being so kind. And this is how the psychology lesson began on page 66 with the significant title  __ Psychological warfare.

The gripping lesson flew by quickly. Professor Ren explained everything in detail. This sounded more like a history lesson. "Psychology is connected to everything. It's everywhere and follows us like a shadow in the darkness," he noted.

In the second hour, however, you noticed yourself slowly slipping away from the lesson. You closed your eyes, and the only thing you could still hear was your professor's dark voice mumbling something.

Your memory took you back to how five days ago, your mother looked into your eyes while holding your cold hands and telling you that you were in danger. That was one of the main reasons you fell asleep on the desk the second you entered the class.

In those last days, your poor brain just couldn't perceive what danger your mother was talking about. Danger lurks around every corner. It comes in different shapes and colors, and the worst thing is, you don't even know what to do about it. How to stop the unknown.

Now that the strange lady lived in the same house with you, you always came home late after school to find her and your mother in the kitchen. You never ate with them, although your mother asked you several times to sit with them. However, they did not want to talk to you about the danger. Therefore, when you were hungry, you went to the kitchen to take your food and returned to your room. If they didn't want to talk about what was going on, neither did you. 

Every night they kept you awake. Especially their glasses. You couldn't understand what they were talking about. Most of the time, they laughed and chatted loudly. What a wonder the neighbors didn't call the police.

On weekends, you went to sleep when the rooster crowed in the morning and woke up when nightfall was just around the corner. 

Because of your chaotic sleeping rhythm, your stomach didn't give you any rest either.

When you got up on Monday morning to get ready for school with a slight headache, you walked barefoot into the kitchen. On the marble countertop, you found an empty bottle of Jägermeister and on the floor some broken glasses. 

"All right, that's it for today!" Professor Ren's loud voice awoke you from your one-second nap. "Keep it low in the hallway. The other students are still working."

You bent down to pick up your bag when you heard him continuing, "Everyone is free to go except- "

You looked up and saw how he patted his fingers against your table as if he were playing the piano.

"You."

_ Ah, shit. Here we go again. Someone needs to know my height. Looks like he's going to have to get a second coffin because I'm definitely not going to survive this time. _

You dropped your bag and rolled your eyes at him. Wrong move. Again. 

Professor Ren put his flat palm on your desk and pressed his weight on it. You could feel him staring at you, but you just looked out the window ignoring everything. You didn't have the energy for this.

You felt nothing, or maybe you didn't know what to feel. What you once felt when you were alone with him vanished away. Or at least that's what you thought it did. You were with your psychology professor, already isolated in his car in the distant darkness, and nothing happened. You had no reason to be afraid of the big, bad wolf. Although for him, you were a living, little pig that was still able to run, and it seemed to you he did not like that pretty much. He probably already wanted to have you in his oven. 

Everyone left the class quickly as usual, as you noticed Finn, Rose, and Poe standing by the door and waiting for you. Professor Ren, on the other hand, suggested to them not to wait for you. When they left, his eyes looked back at you. He leaned on his desk next to you and folded his arms in front of his chest. ****

"For as little as there is in your brain, I can't imagine what makes it so heavy," he quipped. "It's not hard to keep your head upright, so what's the problem?" 

Yeah, you deserved that.

You glanced at the door as you frowned, "You know I wonder what other people think about us when-"

"Where is your hat?" he interrupted you.

You looked at him questioningly as you put your hand on your head and felt the touch of your hair as you realized that in the morning when you had the feeling that something was missing, it was your hat.

You shrugged your shoulders and said, "I guess I forgot it at home." 

You lowered your head and dropped your hand on your skirt. 

Somehow you still found it hard to look into his eyes. There was just something about him that made it hard for you to look him straight in the devil's trap when you were sitting on your desk. It was probably because of the way he looked down at you from above that made you feel so much smaller and more fragile. You felt just like a tourist standing for the first time on Time Square in New York while looking up at the high buildings.

He nodded, briefly twitched an eyebrow, and looked back at his papers. 

"I took the chance to have a look at your marks." He stood up, walked back to his table, and rested his elbows on his chair. "I noticed the only subjects in which you show good results are English and PE. The others are, well... only average. I think it might be necessary for you to get some help."

You shook your head in confusion and tried to puzzle what he indicated with that. 

"You mean like I need a psychologist or-" 

"What you need is me." 

Your eyes went round and put your hands on your desk. With curiosity, you shifted your chair closer in the hope to understand him better. 

"We could meet up once or twice a month to talk about your problems. You could tell me where you're stuck, what's holding you back from getting a higher mark, and we would try to solve it. I could even give you some special homework for psychology. I would correct them and explain to you what's not working. It might seem hard to get a good mark in my subject, and it takes a while, but it's not impossible."

You tossed your head back as a water boiling sound came out of your mouth that resembled an exhaled laugh. You tried to calm down your lungs from jumping as you looked at Professor Ren, who was trying to decipher your reaction with waggled eyebrows and a furrowed forehead. 

"Hold on," you paused and held a finger in the air. "You're being serious."

He narrowed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. You tried to contain your laugh by keeping your mouth closed as you eventually slowed down when you pressed your hand on your chest.

"What I really need is-"

"Your laces are untied," he remarked as he pointed with his finger at your black oxford shoes. 

For God's sake, this man really knows how to change the subject.

Before you had the chance to bend down, he added, "You look tired. Did you get enough sleep last night?"

_ Am I still dreaming, or did he just-?  _

He sounded concerned, and through his glasses, you recognized how his eyes gleamed a little spark of truth and interest in your answer to this. And then again, it surprised you how he didn't already shush you or said something to keep your mouth shut.

"Yeah, I slept like a baby," you lied and tried to force a smile.

He tilted his head to the sight and shoved his hands in his pants. 

"Your undereye bags tell me something different."

Okay, lying to him is useless when he has evidence that he can see. Noted.

"I just... got into overthinking, and - that kept me awake the whole night. Nothing more and nothing less." 

That was not a lie. It was more like an uncompleted truth.

"You certainly don't overthink before you speak," he commented.

And that's where you draw the line. 

"Okay, I'm out!" you scoffed as you hit your palms against the table. 

Your expression hardened, and you turned your face away. You stood up, smashed your bag on your desk, and started to pack your stuff. 

"This is your future we're talking about! You're at a high risk to fail this year if you don't get the essential guidance from me," he resolved gravely. "Are you really willing to lose this opportunity?" 

"We are talking about your future! You risk failing this year if you don't get the essential guidance from me," he resolved gravely. "Are you really willing to lose this opportunity?"

"Yes!"

You lifted your chin and stared into his eyes that couldn't follow your refuse. With his arms crossed and his knitted brows, he looked at you like he's never been denied in his entire life. 

"If it means being closer to you than already this line between our tables, then yes. I am willing to lose it."

At your last sentence, you turned around and approached the door. 

When you heard your name coming from your psychology teacher in a loud tone, which was a rarity, you stopped at the entrance and turned around to see he had not moved a meter.

"This is your one and only chance where I offer you my time and my patience. If you act selfishly out of pure stupidity, then you're even more ignorant than I thought you were. Think about my offer. And when you have decided, let me know."

You scratched your nose and let a heavy breath out while you tried to sound relaxed and still respectfully. 

"If you really think you're encouraging me to accept your help by insulting me, then you really should reconsider why I laughed in the first place."

And just like that, you left his sight. You did not hear him calling or running behind you to stare at you with his deadly gaze and whisper a threat in your ear. But he did make you think and wonder if you just did the right thing. You hated to admit it, but he was not entirely wrong. You needed help. But not from him. Not after the way he treated you from the beginning.

* * *

In English, you assumed you would start analyzing Pride and Prejudice. To your luck, Ms. Rey mentioned to only finish the book in March. During your last period, which was Math, you felt as if someone had punched you in the face. Mr. Hux nearly kicked Poe with his book when he rested his head on the bench. 

Poe became a good friend to you and was practically part of the group. The looks Finn always gave him were explicit that he liked him a lot. Instead of confronting him about his interest in Poe, you waited for Finn to tell you about it when he was ready.

When the bell rang, you left the class and made your way to the choir, where you would see your charming new stranger again. An unexpected warmth appeared in your belly, and your brain flashed images of his unforgettable eyes in which you could swim. You could even drown in them and wouldn't mind it.

The smell of lunch in the canteen was all over the hallways. They always forget to ventilate. When you opened the front door, you could smell the relief of the fresh wind that blew through the air. It smelt like autumn in so many various ways. 

But what you couldn't smell was your unexpected fall at the stairs when you glanced at the gym before you tripped over the last steps.

You outstretched your arms to prevent falling on your face just like yesterday at home, but even this did not really help, and you crashed on the hard ground. 

Severe pain shot up in your left wrist like you would stretch a chewing gum from the floor. Your knees hurt too. You tried to move your fingers on your injured hand to get somehow up. You winced in pain, so in the end, you gave up and lay down on your left side. You put your injured hand on the ground, and with closed eyes, you hoped the suffering would reduce.

"Hello there," spoke a charming voice out of nowhere. 

You opened your eyes, tilted your head, and saw the same guy who brought you home on the moto bike not long time ago. The same guy who disappeared before you could thank him. 

Since then, you never saw him in the hallways or in the canteen. It was nice to see him again before the rehearsal. If only, in a different way and not like you, who looked like a starfish on the wrong ground.

"Vicrul, my friend," you greeted him between your heavy breathing through the pain. 

You held your balance on your right arm as you tilted your head around to remark there was no one left in sight, only him, you, and your bag.

"I'm not your friend, love," he replied sharply. "What on earth are you doing on the ground?"

"I'm doing a snow angel, can't you see?"

You said it with enough sarcasm in your voice that he chuckled. 

"And if you're not my friend, then you're not allowed to call me love," you added.

"It's a bit too early for snow, don't you think?"

"Can you please help me up? I- think I twisted my wrist."

You tried to hold up your left hand in the air that felt already going numb. There was no way you could get up without any help, and it was already getting cold lying on the wet ground.

"The thing is, I don't wanna be late for the choir, so I kinda have to go," he smirked as he turned around and went off.

"Don't you dare leave me here alone!” you tried to cry out, but it only came out as a croak. The pain was not the only thing testing you.

Vicrul looked over his shoulder and came back to you with his smirk glued to his face. He shoved one hand in his blue coat with black sprinkles on it, and with the other hand, he stroked his chin.

"And what do I get if I help you?"

_ My fist in your face as soon as I stand on my feet _ was your first not so lovely thought.

You tried to push a smile through your crinkled face. 

"A thank you?"

He stroked his chin in a thinking position and looked at the sky.

"That's lame! See ya later."

"Okay, okay, you can continue to call me love!" you shouted through your lungs as Vicrul walked off.

He quickly turned back to you with a bride smile on his face like a five-year-old who just got a birthday cake with his name on top of it. 

Without trying to do you any more harm, he stepped to the side of your head and bent. Gently he took you by your arms from behind. You groaned in pain as you sat upright. Your skirt was a bit pulled up. You could almost see your underwear, and your first reaction was to pull it down out for fear Vicrul might see something. Quickly as he stood up, you took your chance and smoothed down your skirt.

"The first half is behind us," he commented. He walked around to face you and let a long breath out before he leaned over you to carefully grip your right hand and lift you up.

"How did that happen?" he asked.

"The stairs don't seem to like me. Thanks for your help. Without you, who knows how long I would still be lying there."

He didn't reply with a 'no problem'. His eyes formed a smile that affirmed all different kinds of 'you're welcome'. It was like an ocean in peace. No climate change, plastic pollution, fisheries subsidies to be seen that could harm him in any way. Why would you ever hurt such a beautiful creature with such eyes anyway?

If you had to write a resume about what makes an ocean so beautiful, you would take Vicrul as your muse and write blindly on the paper while looking into his eyes. You would write more than 20,000 words only in a short amount of time. 

He noticed you staring as he slowly firmed a soft smile and spoke, “You're falling again."

You didn't understand a single thing that came out of his mouth. How could you, as distracted as you were. 

His gaze narrowed at the floor, and his eyebrows twitched. 

"No wonder you fell. Your laces are untied," he remarked.

Vicrul exploded your daydreaming like a nail pecking into a balloon. 

You rolled your eyes and wished in the same second to unroll them again as you remembered. Professor Ren warned you about your laces before. They must have been the reason why you trolled.

Your breath got stuck, and your mouth slowly split open as you watched Vicrul slowly kneel in front of you. You felt his warm breath through your thighs. Seductively you bite your lip and wish he wouldn't notice it. 

He took his time as he knotted the laces so lightly. When he made a double knot, he pressed it extra hard, and his eyes lifted to you.

Perhaps you had only imagined it, but for a second, you felt no pain. Neither physically nor mentally. Everything was quiet. So that's what he meant by "You're falling again". 

"Stop looking what's under my skirt," you asserted playfully. 

As he rapidly stood up, he started to blink, and his forehead scowled.

"I wasn't looking!" 

He narrowed his gaze and grabbed your injured arm to observe it as you cried in pain.

"Not the worst thing I've seen, but I better bring you to the infirmary."

He let go of your arm, picked up your bag, and climbed up the stairs. "You're coming?"

You didn't have many options. Your wrist sting like hell, and going to the choir now and letting it get worse wasn't going to help. You knew Ms. Holdo would also advise you to go to the infirmary.

You climbed up the stairs, gave Vicrul a nod, and the two of you made your way to the infirmary.

* * *

"It's just a small bruise, nothing more," the nurse declared. 

With her big glasses that glitched from her nose, she examined your hand while you sat on the chair internally, crying in pain. 

"We are going to put some ice on it, and the pain will disappear."

"Are you sure it's only a bruise?" Vicrul questioned. "Her wrist is slowly turning blue, and her hand is swollen. I think she needs to go to the hospital." 

With his serious tone, he sounded a bit concerned.

"Young man, I am here, the nurse, and I alone know what the girl needs," she replied defensively. 

The old high-pitched voice from the nurse was quite irritating to Vicrul's ear. He rolled his eyes as he leaned by the door with his arms folded. Silently he taunted and observed your treatment. 

The nurse took a small pack with ice from the refrigerator, wrapped it in a towel, and handed it to you. 

You thanked her as you took it in your right hand and fell the drops dripping over your hand. Your gaze dropped on your injured hand, which looked more like a blue glove filled up with water. With slow motions, your hand was shaking from the cold as you tried to resist not to press too hard on your wounded hand. You bit on your lip and shut your eyes as you felt the icepack touching your numb hand. 

The pain was getting more and more intense. It took all your strength to hold back the tears that were urgently squealing to be set free, but you tried to remain taught like a nut. You wouldn't let the pain break you. Although from the inside, you were slowly cracking up. 

"Am I allowed to go to the choir"? you asked.

"Yes, of course. Just don't try to move your hand too much," the nurse suggested with a grin. 

Her red lipstick was smudged at her front teeth. You nodded with crinkled eyes as you returned her the ice pack. You said goodbye and left with Vicrul.

The silence between you and him as you walked through the hallways was weird. From what you heard from him, you questioned why he didn't give you any smirky remark on your way. 

When Vicrul opened the entrance door, he suddenly took your left arm and gave you a small heart attack while you slowly descended the steps. 

How kind of him to prevent you not to trip on the stairs for the second time. And then, five feet away from the sports hall, he changed the direction.

"Vicrul, this is not the way to the choir," you notified and glanced at his hardened face.

"That's right, we're not going."

"We?"

"Yeah, oui, oui," he mocked your shrill pitched voice. "I'm taking you to the hospital." 

You braked in the middle of the schoolyard, freed yourself from his grip, and looked at him with a disagreeable look, ready to protest.

"But the nurse said I'm fine, and I can -"

"The nurse has no fucking idea of what's currently happening to your hand. But I do. So, I suggest you listen to me."

His tone sounded so insisting, it made you nearly laugh. With his hand gestures, he was good at expressing what he planned on doing. If you would protest, he had no problem dragging you to the hospital. Your swelling hand with already the size of a toilet paper could impossibly be only a bruise, and the thought of ending like Luke seemed not ideal. 

"I thought you didn't want to be late for the choir," you imitated him.

Vicrul smashed his palm against each other, and with a smirk, he stepped to you closer, not leaving much space between your two.

"There are just things that need to be done first."

* * *

When you live in a small town, things are close to each other. Sometimes you wondered if you didn't live in a snow globe, like the ones in your living room that your mother collected. 

The hospital was only a five-minute walk from the school, so it wasn't necessary to ride with Vicrul's motorcycle that he left on the forbidden park place in front of the school.

Silently you sat in the waiting room of the emergency department. 

The only thing you could think about was if you should text your mother and let her know about your injury. But on the other hand, after all those days, you didn't feel like talking to her at all. She would only get worried, and you didn't want her to stress out more than she already was with the trouble she got herself into.

"How come you knew that I had to go to the hospital," you asked Vicrul curiously. 

He sat next to you with legs crossed and read a magazine. He lifted his head, and with his ocean eyes, he met your gaze. He glanced at your swollen hand and burrowed his face back into the magazine.

"I had something similar like you," he replied.

"Really? What happened?"

When he looked at you again, his eyes answered your question. You should have remembered it.

"I thought you already heard the rumors about me."

The pain in his smile was probably, more painful than your hand at that moment, as you remembered how Kaydel's warned you. 

_ "Rumor has it that he got kicked out of his last school because he was known for his bad reputation. Keep your hands away from him. I'm sure he has a collection of broken hearts from different girls and is part of a mafia gang or something."  _

Did this mean he got himself in a fight, and that's what he meant by that? Was this the reason he got kicked out of his school? Kaydel didn't tell you in detail what he had done that gave him a bad reputation, so you weren't aware of any of them. Asking him about it now would only ruin everything, so you just blindly played along.

"They are just rumors, Vicrul. They don't have to be true."

"And what if I told you they were true? Are you sure you want to be friends with someone who has a bad reputation?" he muttered in a harsh tone.

"Yes!"

He started to laugh. All the people around gave him a nasty look. It resembled your laughter when Professor Ren suggested this morning to help you. He didn't believe it. And neither could you.

"Probably just because of my eyes and my six-pack," he smirked ridiculously. 

"No, because you're a good guy," you tried to encourage him.

"You know nothing about me!"

"Maybe. But I saw how you took care of me in the infirmary. Even though you could just trust the nurse, you kept arguing with her because you believed my injury was more serious than what she said. You could have just dropped me off there and go to the choir, but you took me to the hospital... and you stayed with me. Even though you had no reason to."

It was only the second time you talked with Vicrul, and you could understand what he really was. Just a small boy, hiding away his inner pain and problems behind his sparkling eyes. He saw nothing else in himself. He didn't see his inner worth. As a matter of fact, he only saw his eyes and his body. 

"And for your information, I've never seen you shirtless before, so I can't confirm that either!" you added with an annoyed tone.

You crossed your arms in front of your chest and let out a heavy sigh as you looked forward. A beautiful three-year-old girl with hair encircled in cute Bantu knots and a teddy bear in her arm sat opposite you next to her mother. With her big eyes, she smiled as she looked at you, and you returned the smile. Vicrul noticed her and gave her a little wink. Her cheeks turned pink, and she broke the eye contact.

"Poor thing, you scared her," you bantered and nudged him with your right elbow in a playful way.

Vicrul shot you a glimpse as his head sunk in his magazine, and he smiled. 

"I'm sure I made her nervous. Just like you."

Then he put his magazine away, placed his elbow on the armrest, and whispered to you in a seductive tone. 

"Would you like to see me, shirtless?" 

What a jerk. You swallowed and turned your face to him. You looked at his sparkling blue eyes that blinked in amusement. You rubbed your palm against your leg and felt how it started to sweat. The thought of him asking you this so directly made you heavy blush. 

"Are you- flirting with me?"

He smirked as he tilted his head. 

"Why? Is it working?"

"No!"

There was no way you wanted to stroke his ego and fall for his seducing games, just like the other girls did.

A muttered laugh came from him when he didn't stop staring at your lips. Many signals indicated that he wanted to kiss you when he leaned a bit forward to you. 

But just like in every movie, he got disrupted by the loud ringtone. When he answered the phone, his facial expression hardened and made him wildly ran outside. 

You wondered who this was as you looked around the room and observed the other patients. You hoped Vicrul hadn't left without saying goodbye like last time.

By the sound of the sliding door from the emergency department, you turned your head to look who would be taken next. When an attractive woman with eye-catching red lips walked out of the door, you recognized that it was the same woman who only moved in with you.

"Qi'ra," you called.

All the other people looked at you for the second time with an annoyed and tired expression. You heard another older man shouting in the distance for you to shut up.

Startled in terror, Qi'ra turned around to follow the voice she had heard before. When she realized it was you, she came towards you with a furious look, ready to slaughter you. 

You sank into the chair and felt a small tingling in your arms when she stood in front of you.

"Have you completely lost your mind," she hissed in a whisper. 

"I- I'm sorry I just recognized you- and I thought-"

"That it would be a great idea to scream my name, so everybody knows I'm here?"

You raised your chin and clenched your jaw. Her head was bowed, and she looked you straight in the eyes. Besides Vicrul, she had no spark in them. However, they weren't completely empty. Something else was in them. Like she was hiding something.

You regretted your dumb action. Your eyes moved to the girl who sat across from you. She had switched her sitting position and held her teddy bear closer to her mother's body. She sought protection just in case the angry woman would do anything to her. 

Qi'ra noticed you and followed your gaze. It brought her to the sight of a small girl in fear, whose mother had wrapped her arm around her shoulders. 

Qi'ra grinned and straightened herself as she licked her lips to look again around the room and back to you.

"What are you doing here," she asked coolly.

Slowly you tried to lift your injured hand. Every move burned your hand, and you felt like your hand had a fever. At your movement, Qi'ra knitted her big brows.

"Bloody hell! Your hand is slowly turning into a smurf. What happened?"

"At school, I... I fell from the stairs," you replied, short and defeated.

She shook her head and exhaled from her nose. 

"What is it with you and the stairs? You kissed the floor only yesterday. Wasn't that enough for you?" she jested.

You seriously had no strength from all the pain that your hand gave you, so you ignored her unnecessary remark.

"Why are you here?" you asked her smoothly.

She looked away from your eyes and rolled them upwards in thoughts as she observed the ceiling. She opened her mouth and paused for a second like she was rethinking what she's going to say.

"I just had a check-up," she said.

Somehow you couldn't believe her words, and not only because you didn't know her yet, but you didn't trust her. Next to this, she was hiding something from you with your mother behind your back. 

You knew she was the reason why your mother did not want to tell any further information about why you are involved in her business of danger. But talking about this now in any way would be foolish, and as tired as you were, you really had no desire to do so.

From a distance, you saw Vicrul returning to you in a hurry. 

"Hey, sorry, but I have to go. Are you gonna be okay if I leave you here?"

"Yeah, sure, no problem," you responded with lips pressed together in a smile. "Thank you for bringing me here."

A part of you wanted him to stay and ask him who called and why he had to go away. On the other hand, you were just new friends, and if you noticed something, then if he ever would open up to you, then not now. 

He straightened his coat and gave you a wink.

"You're welcome, love. Take care of yourself."

Vicrul only then noticed Qi'ra, who stood there next to him with arms crossed and widened eyes. He nodded in hello and goodbye at the same time as he left through the exit door. 

When he left, she smirked and observed you up and down. With her fingers that tapped in a rhythm on her arm, she waited for an explanation. 

"You got yourself a cutie there," she commented with a sly smile.

"He's not cute, he's just- Vicrul, my normal friend, you breathed.

"You're right, he's not cute. He's hot."

You rolled your eyes, and with a tight-lipped face, you crossed your legs. Qi'ra still stood in front of you. She parted her lips as she understood that she acted like a teenage girl.

"I planned on going home now, but if you want me to stay here with you, I'll stay," she proposed kindly.

You knew your mother would be happy and enjoy it if you were on good terms with Qi'ra. And that was one of the moments to take advantage of this opportunity. 

"Yeah, I'd love to have a little company."

It was unusual for you to hear from a stranger the word  _ 'home  _ ' because it was the same house you grew up in for 18 years. The one that only you called home since you spent the most time in it. 

Sharing it now with a total stranger, from which you know nothing about only that your mother trusts her, was a strange feeling that didn't fulfill your trust in her. 

Two minutes later, the nurse called your name. Qi'ra accompanied you to the x-ray, which showed a grade two torn ligament in your wrist. The friendly doctor compressed your left wrist with a bandage and prescribed you the essential anti-inflammatory painkillers. If Vicrul hadn't taken you to the hospital, who knows if you would already be looking with Luke for a new prosthetic hand.

When you walked out of the entrance door from the hospital, you couldn't believe your eyes who approached the door. You stopped in place as your mouth dropped open. 

We do really live in a small world. 

Guilt slowly brewed in your stomach. All you could think of was how wrong and stupid it was of you to joke this morning about death. 

Professor Ren came towards you, dressed all black like in the morning, with a tired and not so pleasant face.

You remembered how only earlier he offered you his help that you brutally rejected and how you left him with a piece of mind from you. If only you knew. You had to agree that today compared to all the other days, he was nice to you while he was breaking from the inside. 

His gaze met yours, and he stopped in front of you.

"Professor, I am so sorry for my stupid remark this morning about who died. I feel guilty, and I promise that from now on, I will behave. My deepest condolences for your loss."

You could hardly believe it yourself when you spoke with such a friendly voice to the teacher you detested more than Mr. Hux. Who would have thought that? But in this situation, it's better to drop the pride and act like a respectful person.

Professor Ren scratched his head in confusion. Somehow, he seemed amused and bewildered.

"Miss [Y/Surname], I appreciate your apology. Sadly, I must disappoint you, but I'm not here because someone died, and I'm not aware of anyone dying who might be close to me," he stated clearly. 

It's in those moments when you feel like a complete douchebag. You had not only embarrassed yourself in front of your professor, but also in front of Qi'ra. She stood behind you with her hand on her waist and leaned on the wall as she observed the conversation.

"Oh well, then what are you doing here?" you asked and scratched the bridge of your nose.

"As much as I remember, this is not the first time I'm telling you that this is none of your business," he responded harshly yet in a low tone.

Both of you stood there for a solid minute, not knowing what to do or say. You felt slightly uncomfortable standing like this. 

How do you end a conversation with a professor when you see them outside after they offered you help that you stubbornly declined?

"See? I got you to apologize," he chuckled. 

"No, you didn't," you disagreed.

Professor Ren tilted his head and scrunched up his face.

"Yes, I did."

"No, this apology came from me, I-"

Qi'ra stepped forward between both of you on the side and interrupted your catfight when she loudly cleared her throat.

Professor Ren, and you turned your head to the side at the same time to look at her. You took a step back and furrowed your forehead. 

"Oh, yes, Professor Ren, this is... ehm, this is-"

"Her aunt," she grinned and reached out out her hand. 

Professor Ren shook her hand while you stood next to her with raised eyebrows. 

"You look extremely familiar. Have we met before?" Qi'ra asked. 

With her lowered eyebrows and her squinted eyes, she looked at him as if she were trying to understand what Picasso tried to express with his paintings.

"No, I don't think so," he responded.

"Well, my bad. Anyway, we better go. It was lovely to meet you."

He hummed with a nod and said goodbye as he went through the door. 

While you followed Qi'ra, you felt quite upset that Professor Ren didn't say anything about your injured hand. He didn't even ask you what you were doing in the hospital. 

The way he questioned you this morning if you got any sleep and how he was the only one who remarked that you didn't have your hat on was - a nice feeling to know that someone noticed. And yet, how naive of you to think that he would ask about your hand after you rejected his help.

You got into the little grey golf car that was your mother's car. She only drove it while she was at home. When she went on her work trips, she left the car with you. 

"Please don't tell me you're my real aunt, and my mother always kept that a secret from me."

"God, no, I wouldn't want to be related to you," she exclaimed.

"Ouch, thank you," you said in an offended tone. "Then why did you tell my professor you were?"

"Until you thought about what to introduce me as, I spontaneously said, aunt. You can never go wrong with that."

Qi'ra started the engine and drove off. 

You needed to drive to the pharmacy to get your pills for your hand. Qi'ra's gaze was fixed on the road while you tried not to cry every single time when the car drove over something hard on the ground.

"By the way, forget what I said earlier about that Vicrul boy being hot. He's nothing compared to your teacher. That man should be on the cover of Vogue under the title ' _ The new definition of hot'. _

Thinking about seeing your psychology professor on the most popular magazine naked with that title made you nearly throw up.

"You do know they're both much younger than you, right?"

Her jaw went slack, and she made a full stop at the red light. With a wrinkled face and with the other hand, you held your injured hand so that it would not move too much.

"Are you calling me old?" she gurgled with laughter.

A soft laugh escaped your throat, and Qi'ra joined you. It felt good to laugh after this tiring day. 

"Age is just a number, [Y/N]," she counseled. "But of course, only when both of you are over 18!"

You nodded and turned your hand to look outside the window. 

_And jail is just a place_ you thought. 

Being in a relationship where you both have more than five years of difference was impossible to imagine for you. There were so many things wrong with that. But telling her now your opinion after you both laughed so good was out of the question. 

During the ride, you got to know Qi'ra better. She told you she was born in England and met your mother eight years ago in Scotland.

After you went to the pharmacy, you begged Qi'ra to take you to McDonald's. She rolled her NO a thousand times with her British accent, and after giving you a long speech about how McDonald’s is bad for your health, she finally gave up and did as you wished. 

You exulted a loud yes and pumped your right fist in the air, and immediately regretted it when the sudden pain on the other wrist stung you.

You arrived in the heaven of all heavens at the time when most people were having their dinner. The smell of chicken nuggets was stuck in your nose, and as always, it was loud and stuffy inside. 

Qi'ra didn't feel like sitting here, so she suggested taking the food with you at home. Then your mother could also have something from it. 

You agreed, got in line, and looked at the menu of what to take for you and your mother. Even Qi'ra felt a craving for a juicy burger after not eating fast food for years.

Today was the place really crowded. Qi'ra looked around all the time as if she felt she was being followed. She tended her eyes immediately to every sound that seemed different from what was usual to the restaurant.

You turned your body to face her as she stood behind you. 

"What were you really doing in the hospital," you suddenly asked her. 

You had no idea from where this came. You started to like Qi'ra. She was smart, funny, and beautiful. Although you had, on one thing, a different view, she was still fun to hang around with, and you wanted to know more about her since she would be for you like a real aunt living with you in the same house.

"I thought I told you. It was just for a check-up," she said with a smile and continued to look around. 

The way she had to think at the hospital before she delivered you an answer did not give you the impression of what she said was true. Especially not after she got so angry when you called her name. 

Who cares that people know she's here. It's not like she's a celebrity or something. 

You pursed your lips and showed her a serious face to let her know that you knew she was not telling you the truth.

She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. In your eyes, she saw that lying to you now was worthless. 

She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes.

"I was... visiting- a friend," she stammered in a low tone.

"You have friends in Germany besides my mother?"

She narrowed her head and whispered in your ear, "Let's not discuss this around other people."

"No, tell me I want to know," you urged her to continue.

Suddenly you felt a hard thud against your injured hand as if someone had bumped with their serving plate against it, and you gasped out a loud cry. 

Like a bolt of lightning, Qi'ra wrapped her hand around your chest, quickly shoved you behind her back, and stepped a foot forward. She clenched her hand into a fist and raised it high in the air. She got into a fighting position as if she were ready to attack.

Every single person stopped eating and directed their eyes on her. Those who were next to you backed all away from you. 

It didn't really look like the old gentleman who stood next to you realized what just happened. His wide-eyed expression and his parted mouth made him nearly drop his plate when he looked up and saw Qi'ra's fist in the air, who was ready to punch him. 

"S-Sorry, Madame, for bumping into you with my plate. T-That was not my intention, I swear. I-I was just passing by," he trembled.

You nodded in understanding and looked at your injured hand that still hurt. Slowly and calmly, you put your other hand on Qi'ra's shoulder and assured her that everything was fine. 

She came back to her senses when she started to blink. She relaxed her hand, realized what just happened, and immediately apologized.

The man nodded, still frightened, and walked away. 

She bent for a second with her hands against her knees and let out a big sigh while shaking her head. 

"Is everything alright?" you asked her in a worried tone. 

You started rubbing her back and looked around to see how people kept doing what they were doing.

Qi'ra straightened up and let out another small breath as she looked at you. Panic was visible in her eyes. She dropped it immediately and put a smile on her face. She put her hand on your shoulder and lightly shook you.

Many questions floated to your brain. Maybe Qi'ra was paranoid or thought someone had hurt you. In any case, you noted you should not mess with her.

"I appreciate your reaction, sort of. But it's okay. You don't need to be so overprotective around me," you laughed over it and turned around to order your meal.

Qi'ra narrowed her gaze at her hands. They were still shaking. She squeezed them into fists and loosened them. She had lost control and made everyone in this place know there was a woman in town who nearly kicked a man because he was just passing by.

"You will thank me for it later." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still working on coming up with a writing plan, but I'll warn you right now. This month is the end of my semester. This means coffee and coke are my new best friends. Exams, stress, and no sleep are totally gonna fuck me up. (It's not like my sleep schedule is already fucked up) I am only 1% sure, but I really hope that I can, start writing the next chapter in February and who knows, MAYBE a new chapter will come out on Valentine's Day :o. I CONFIRM NOTHING that is just a goal of mine that I want to fulfill. So if it won't be updated on this date, then I'm really sorry, but just know I'm writing it :*
> 
> Thank you again to all of you. You have no idea how much your support means to me. It brings me so much joy and a will not only to continue, but also a will to get out from that bed. It's truly an amazing feeling. My life would be now empty and not so lovely if it wasn't because of you. (God, I sound so cheesy)
> 
> Anyway! 
> 
> May the force be with you!


	10. Old Memories, New Nicknames

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, how are we doing? How is life? I hope you had a nice valentine's day, whether you celebrated, you're single or not <3
> 
> Normally I keep my promises, but since I started writing? *sighs*
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> VERY IMPORTANT!!!
> 
> TW // ALKOHOL CONSUMPTION
> 
> (This is also like my first TW, I'm not even sure I'm doing this right) :/

**TW // ALKOHOL CONSUMPTION**

The longer the femme fatale lived with you, the more you got used to her.

When you returned on Monday after the hospital with Qi'ra and McDonald's, your mother was amazed at how well you two got along with each other within a few hours.

When you revealed to her with pleasure your lovely bandage and told her the story behind it, she nearly made a scandal out of it.

Even though you still didn't know if you should trust Qi'ra, you peacefully started to join her and your mother at the table for lunch. That was a good start, and it brought your mother joy. As long as she was happy, it made you happy too.

However, day by day, things started to change.

The following day, your mother decided that the only way you would get to school is by car. In the morning, she would drive you to school, and in the afternoon, Qi'ra would come and pick you up. From time to time, they would swap positions.

Later on, Qi'ra installed a camera and an alarm system in every room. If that was not already strange, they also put a chip in your mobile phone, so they were aware of your location. Additionally, they asked you for every single contact number on your phone, including where they lived.

It seemed like both of them have never heard of a well-known word called privacy.

No matter how much you protested, they didn't care and repeated the sentence, "You will thank us for this later."

You got tired and decided to stop bombarding them with questions. Obviously, it had something to do with the trouble that your mother got herself into. You acted as if you had never heard of it and remained positive, that everything was fine as always.

But these abrupt changes in your life and seeing your mother at home every single day now was not okay, and your inner you knew this.

Even if they wouldn't tell you any time soon about the danger they were expecting, you had to accept the fact that everything would come when the time was right. You just had to be patient.

In the end, everything happens for a reason. If Qi'ra and your mother decided not to tell you, then it's because they have something in their mind of which you knew nothing about. And you had to respect this.

"Qi'ra, I understand, and it's obvious that my mother is worried ... and- and overprotected, that something might happen to me, but seriously! You're now like my babysitter, and at the same time bodyguard who drives me everywhere I go and follows each of my steps, and it's so ... I don't think I know a word for this," you complained, removing the fuzz from your hat.

"You should thank me! Otherwise, without me, your mother would never allow you to go to the basketball game," she mentioned with her honey voice.

In the beginning, your mother wasn't pleased with the idea of you going back to work with your injured hand since it hadn't healed properly, and you hadn't been to school all week. Your hand hurt less than before, and you didn't want your injury to prevent you from completing your daily routine. If Qi'ra hadn't convinced your mother, you'd still be sitting at home.

"And I'm thankful for this, but I know that you don't want to babysit me! And besides, you don't even know what teams are playing."

"The Resistance against the Pirates. This is the first game after three years, where the men's Premier League of the Pirates will play against the men's Premier League of the Resistance," she announced confidently.

She swung her head to you and laughed at your puzzled expression. The price was already blinking in her eyes.

"How did you know?" you asked, fascinated at the information she possessed.

"Do you really think I would go somewhere without being prepared?"

You were grateful for what Qi'ra did, but you wanted to be left alone where you could have some time for yourself. You really needed this. A peaceful place where you could be around people who didn't live with you 24/7 and weren't stuck on your shoe like a piece of chewing gum.

You raised your brows and leaned your head against the cold window.

October has never looked so colorful on the trees as it did this year. The cash register at Starbucks rang already with the most successful, warm-filled pumpkin spice latte. Mounds of leaves were rifled by small animals, and spooky, Jack O’Lantern faces sat at the front doors. While little kids ran around the neighborhood dressed as ghosts with their white sheets, the adults dressed up in their traditional folk costumes. Everyone prepared themselves for the Munich beer festival or, as you liked to call it, the 'drunk festival.' During this time, beer became the new water, and sleep was for the weak.

After a short drive, you arrived at the sports arena and climbed out of the car.

"Trust me, if it wouldn't be for your mother, I would literally have no problem letting you go all by your own. And although I would rather be somewhere else, I'm only doing this because," Qi'ra paused, eyebrows down and furrowed in doubt. "I truly need a break from that woman."

You laughed aloud in wonder at her confession as you placed the hat on your head.

"Why didn't you say that! Okay, hear me out! You go where you wanna be, and in four hours, you come and pick me up, and we simply tell my mom that you've been with me the whole time. Deal?" you proposed with a grin.

"Nice try, Smurfy," she sneered and locked the door.

"Oh c'mon, not you too! Stop giving me nicknames! They really start to piss me off!" you chided and marched behind her.

First Chipmunk and Granny, then sweetie plus love. Not to forget, the nickname you hated the most was 'little Witch.' Smurfy was also now added to the collection and was hopefully the last one.

With one hand, Qi'ra effortlessly opened the front door of the arena. She made it seem so easy and signed for you to walk in.

When you entered the building, the first thing your eyes caught was the painful color yellow. It was like a sting in the eye. As if you had just been woken up.

In front of you, next to the stairs, stood Lando Calrissian with his back turned at you. It seemed as if he was speaking on the phone, and the slamming of the door made him turn around. It didn't look like he recognized you. For a second, he looked mystified, so you smiled and waved at him in the hope he might remember you. Or at least your hat. He put away his phone and gradually approached you while rubbing his hands together.

"Well, hello, what have we here?" he grinned.

Lando took Qi'ra's hand gently like a soft feather and pressed a kiss on it, to which she softly chuckled.

"Qi'ra, my dear, you look exactly the way I remember you. After all those years, you still look ... phenomenal as always," he complimented her in a flirty tone.

"You don't look too bad yourself. I always wondered if you were born with that mustache of yours. It's still the same, but more ... greyish. You truly aged like fine wine."

"Oh, Qi'ra" —Lando let out a wicked laugh— "you really haven't aged at all."

You felt a little stupid, being in the middle of a reunion as it seems of so-called old friends. You nearly forgot your own existence by standing next to them like a stupid decoration.

"Tell me. What are you doing here, with" —Lando indented with his head to you— "Luke's bartender?"

You elevated your jaw, ready to say something, and just in that second, Qi'ra stopped you by holding her hand in front of your face. This was a rude gesture of her, but at least she didn't tell you, "The adults are talking."

"I came here ... to watch a basketball game," she smiled and folded her arms.

"Just a basketball game?" he implied in a tone that clearly suggested that he did not believe her at all.

Lando's brushy brows rose to his forehead as he turned his head toward you while casting an eye to Qi'ra.

"Would you excuse us for a moment," he asked you kindly.

"Yeah, sure, no problem! I have to start working now anyway, or else Luke fires me," you giggled and scratched your head.

As you slowly walked away from them, you still got to hear a few more details from their Chit-Chat.

"My, my, Qi'ra! Lyin' is a sin."

"Says the gambler who built his life by lying and cheating."

"These days are already behind me. A wounded bird must have chirped to you about my presence here tonight. Tell me the truth. What brought you back to Europe?"

Qi'ra exhaled a long breath and shook her head.

"You know me, Lando. I'm a wanted woman," she responded playfully.

Something about this catchy sentence made you nervous. What did Qi'ra mean by that? Was this some kind of metaphor? You shouldn't do it. You knew this was wrong, but you couldn't help yourself, and you stopped by the stairwell. From the small distance, you continued to eavesdrop.

"Ah yes, of course, you are. How could I forget? Did you leave any footprints?"

"Lando, please ... you're making fun of yourself. I am as careful as a mother carrying her child."

"I assume the girl—"

When you noticed how Lando stopped talking, you instantly remarked how Qi'ra was giving you a stone-cold stare. She had detected how you secretly listened to their conversation and indicated with her hand for you to continue walking down the stairs. She whispered something to Lando, and they both left the building.

You walked down the stairs and wondered what past Qi'ra and Lando shared together. Maybe some old lovers? Childhood friends? She did not only come here to get some fresh air from back home. You were sure of that.

When you installed yourself at the bar, you saw no sign of Luke. Neither a refilled glass of Guinness nor an old newspaper, lying on the counter.

The bar was kind of quiet for a match where the Pirates were about to play. Usually, a lot of people came from different towns to watch their games. After the last time, when the Resistance won against the First Order, you believed you would get more spectators, but to your wish, it didn't happen.

After a long half an hour of having served a few customers, you kneeled and checked if you had enough soft drinks for the night.

"Hello, can I have a bottle of water, please?"

Quickly you stood up and recognized the white tunic. Ms. Rey was looking for something in her small purse as a genuine smile appeared on her face when she realized who was standing behind the bar.

"I saw your hat, and I told myself it can only belong to one person. I never knew you worked here," she exclaimed in a laugh. Her face glowed with so much warmth it instantly became so pleasing to see a teacher outside of school.

"It's just a little side job, nothing else," you returned the smile.

Ms. Rey's cheeks were pumped up with rouge, and her black mascara brought out her bright green-gray eyes. She looked so magnificent, it nearly made you jealous.

"Please don't tell Headmaster Palpatine that you saw me while I was on sick leave," you almost begged in a fake shriek through grinning teeth.

"No, of course not. Don't worry, I won't say a word."

You thanked her, and for a silent minute, she just observed you from hat to toe.

"I missed you during my lesson," she added in a sweet tone while grabbing a straw from the glass by the wall.

"Huh, really? I'm pretty sure you're the only one who did. Some of my teachers would rather lose their job than telling me this to my face," you joked.

You took a bottle of water from the fridge, handed it to Ms. Rey, and she replied to you with an honest "Thank you."

When she held out her palm to hand you the money, you gave her a dismissive wave and insisted it was on the house.

"That is so generous of you! I've heard about what happened. Is your hand doing alright?" she asked you, finger pointed to your bandage on your left hand.

The concern she gave out sounded real. God, if only every teacher could be like Ms. Rey.

"Yes, I am fit to return to school."

You raised a big thumb up in the excitement of going back to your old-fashioned school. You missed your English teacher's lessons, your friends and - poor Maz, she must have wondered why she didn't see you in the cafeteria for the whole week.

"So, who are you cheering for, Ms. Rey?" you continued to keep up the talk.

"I'm with the Resistance!"

Your eyes and nose crinkled to Ms. Rey's good taste. You took for yourself a soda out of the fridge and poured the cold, fizzy drink in your throat. Your nose started tingling, and the cold was chilling your neck.

"When I was around your age, I played for the Resistance in the women's Super League," she mentioned and took a sip of her water.

"Really? Wow, that's so cool! Are you here all by yourself or—"

You stopped in your sentence as you noticed a black figure from the stairs approaching the bar. Exactly, like a crow that has found a shiny object. How astonishing it was that no matter where you went, you ended up meeting the same people.

All week long, you didn't think about him for a second. And yet, he was here. He put effort into himself to look like he did. As if he were not only here to watch a basketball game but to shine for the spectators.

Professor Ren gazed at you like it had been far too long since he had seen you the last time. After missing four hours of psychology, it must have been a pleasure for him not to see his most hated student sitting in front of him.

"Finally, you came. Look, my favorite student works here," Ms. Rey introduced you, and you instantly began to blush at her words. You weren't aware of being her favorite student. You always thought it was Finn.

Professor Ren twisted his mouth as he looked all surprised seeing you behind the bar for the first time. Not to mention you couldn't even make his order right and embarrassed him in front of Mr. Hux last time.

Next to him, Ms. Rey resembled a little mouse and looked up at him with glittering eyes. You've never seen anyone look at Professor Ren the way she did. Almost like he was her universe, and she was just the little moon floating around.

"I just got my water. Do you want anything?" she asked Professor Ren while drinking through her straw.

You peered around the room to find your psychology professor's ginger best friend. Maybe they had a teacher reunion and decided to meet up with Ms. Rey and spend a great night together before they had to return to their ungrateful students. But no Mr. Hux and no Luke to be seen.

"No, Rey, I'm good. Why didn't you wait for me? I could have paid the drink for you."

Ms. Rey's had her arms rested on the counter. As she was about to take another sip from her drink, she froze and gave him a stinging look.

"I'm well aware that I'm a teacher who gets clearly underpaid for what I do, but I make enough money to buy myself a drink," she objected in a precise tone.

"And paying with a credit card is still not possible," you directly cut into their conversation with a goofy grin.

Professor Ren eyed you as though his patience meter was ticking in the red zone. He narrowed his eyes down at Ms. Rey and shrugged like he didn't quite understand her rejection.

"But I have more money than you," he informed her with a crooked smile.

"I really couldn't care less!"

Ms. Rey rolled her eyes at him and kept sipping through the straw as if she regretted taking water and not something much stronger.

Something was wrong. Today was not the day where the First Order played, but instead, the Pirates and Professor Ren would in no way be here to support the Resistance. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. On one side, he seemed to be tired, and on the other hand, the way his eyes swirled back to you made him look like he was ready to take Ms. Rey's water bottle and throw it at you for doing absolutely nothing.

"Don't you have to work?" he badgered.

And there he was again, your favorite professor treating you the way he always did.

"Don't worry, I am working. Washing glasses is just not so easy and doesn't go as fast when you only have one hand," you specified with an ironic smile, lifting your bandage shortly in the air.

"Since you've had enough time to review the assignments from my class, I hope you get full marks on the test tomorrow," he declared provocatively.

When you heard the word test, your eyes widened the size of a basketball. Professor Ren placed his stretched arm on the counter, watching your frightened expression growing.

"Hang on, what test? You didn't say anything about a test!" you sputtered with a haunted look.

Two years ago, you used this phrase every time Finn asked you if you had studied for the test that you only found out about on the day of the test itself. Thank god Rose was so helpful and explained everything fifteen minutes before writing the test, based on a short summary. This summary usually saved your grades and was better formulated than the lesson.

"Yes, I did. But it seems like you weren't there when I discussed it in class. It is your responsibility to catch up on the lessons when you're absent, not mine."

Ms. Rey pressed her lips together and looked at the floor. The way she gave you a compassionate look in between said everything that she felt sorry for you.

"You are too harsh with her. She's injured and hasn't been to school for an entire week. Under these circumstances, there is no way she can write this test."

Ms. Rey tried to argue with him in the hope he would have empathy for you. But he only gazed at her and began gently stroking her bare arm.

"Don't worry about that, Rey. During the test, I will sit next to her and write down everything she says," he smirked and lifted his chin.

Mrs. Rey shook his arm away in irritation, and at that, he let out a deep sigh.

What a dick.

"Wow, that is ... so nice of you, Professor Ren! I can't believe you would do this for me!" you said it in such a lively and cheerful way that you nearly didn't believe that your sarcasm might this time not really be clear to everyone.

"See how happy she is? I told you I always have a solution for everything," he bragged in pride.

You tensed your jaw and squinted your eyelids. Your anger began to brew in your brain, and you wanted to do nothing more than jump over the counter and claw your psychology professor's eyes out.

Just smile and nod as if this would be the only thing that kept you from going crazy. You're a bartender in a room ... well, of not so many people, but just keep your cool.

From the side, Luke stepped into the bar, carrying in his hands a heavy box. With grunting sounds coming out from his mouth, he nearly bumped into you.

"Hey Granny, sorry you had to wait so long for me. I ordered a bunch of new beer brands and—"

Luke's face suddenly turned to stone, and without notice, he dumped the box on the floor. It was like he got petrified by Medusa.

The clinking of the bottles could be heard from afar and startled everyone in the arena.

Immediately you fell on your knees and bowed down in front of the box. With pulled eyebrows and one hand, you checked whether any liquid leaked out. To your luck, no bottle was harmed.

You stood up, seeing how Luke wore a new brown glove on his bionic hand.

"What the fuck, Luke! You nearly made a huge mess!"

"Watch the language, kid!" he asserted strictly and pointed his index finger at your face.

He straightened his shoulders, and instead of looking at you, his gaze switched in the direction of Ms. Rey and Professor Ren.

You turned around and saw that judging by the face of your English teacher, her happiness sparked pure delight. When you glanced over at your psychology professor, you saw the opposite of it. It was, in fact, the opposite of anything that had any association with positive emotions.

The light in Luke's bluish eyes dispatched, and he slowly turned his finger at what his gaze was set.

"You ... Why are you here?" Luke demanded in a solemn tone, pronouncing each of his words in slow motion.

He insisted on the word _you_ with so much pressure as if it were the only thing he desired to know.

You couldn't really follow who he meant by you. Ms. Rey had her brows pressed together in confusion, and her smile had faded. She darted her eyes at Professor Ren, whose entire face pulsed with tiny veins. He clenched his jaw, gripped his hands into fists, and breathed through his nose like a bull who was about to attack.

They say bulls get angry when they see the color red. If this would be true, then Professor Ren would see in Luke the beautiful color of so many red things. However, this was a lie. Bulls are partially color blind and are actually just irritated by the movement of the cape. And since Luke didn't have one, then Professor Ren had no reason to attack him, right?

"Ben," Ms. Rey muttered in his direction.

Like a ghost that passed through a living body, Professor Ren blinked as his eyes adjusted at Ms. Rey.

Softly she tried to reach his hand with her fingers, yet this was a red flag. He flinched at her touch and gawked down at her.

"Never use that name again!" he scoffed through gritted teeth.

Ms. Rey's gasped in shock, confused at his change of behavior. Her eyelashes were blinking and trembling in fear. She moved a step back from him, looking helpless at you and Luke.

It appeared that for the first time, Ms. Rey now saw what Professor Ren always showed you. His true self. His monster self. Considering that a few minutes before Luke showed up, he gently stroked her arm, wanting to pay for her the drink like the false gentleman he pretended to be. Even Mr. Hux was more gentlemanly than Professor Ren.

You noticed a tear from Ms. Rey's left eye flowing down her pink cheek. When she felt that her tear had reached her chin, she turned her gaze to the ground and quickly wiped it away so that no one would notice.

"Excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom," Ms. Rey notified with a pressed smile that tore her apart and left.

You felt the urge to run after her and check if she was okay, but you didn't want to leave Luke alone with this monster. Who knows who would have died if you would let them both alone?

Professor Ren's intimidating look, which not only frightened Ms. Rey but you as well, had scared her away. And the tone in which he spoke to her? ... Intolerable.

While the other people in the room continued to chat, the reserved muteness at the bar was filled with emotions you couldn't think of. All you really needed now was a customer who would order a drink to quench this silence.

"If I knew you were here, I would never have stepped foot into this building," Professor Ren spattered in a disparaging tone.

His eyes were sharp daggers that were straightly pointing at Luke.

"Now that you're aware of my presence, you can leave," Luke hissed and held up his hand to gesture the way to the exit.

Professor Ren clasped his arms behind his body and pushed his chest out while giving him a big fake smile, which quickly faded.

"No. I changed my mind. I'd like to stay," he said calmly.

You stood there quiet next to Luke and a box full of beer bottles on the floor, observing this like a spectator who was just in the middle of a drama on a reality TV show. Too bad you didn't serve any popcorn at the bar.

Luke had not taken his eyes off your psychology professor. It was as if the fire full of anger inside him almost extinguished the blue water in his eyes.

The interest of a provocation was stuck to Professor Ren. His unexpected smirk worried you. What was his plan?

He glanced at you for a solid second and went into the direction of the sports hall, where as always, the game took place. When he was no longer in sight, you took a large sip of your bottle.

The game must have started since no one else was in the room.

"What the fuck just happened!" you spoke out loud, rubbing your forehead and cooling it off with the battle.

"Language!"

Luke took the large bottle of Vodka out of the fridge and placed it on the counter. He purred it in the glass, plopped himself on the chair, and took a large sip of it. And then he took his second glass. And his third. And so, one. Like a vicious circle. Like a routine.

He probably needed to understand what just happened with his own eyes. He stroked his beard in deep thoughts as some of the drops landed on the beard. His expression could be translated in every single language that one thing was sure. There was no way he was pleased about what he saw, or to be exact ... who he saw.

You weren't sure whether the same applied to Ms. Rey, but one thing was clear to you. It resembled like Professor Ren hated Luke as much as he hated you.

"Do you ... by any chance ... wanna tell me what just happened between the two of you?" you started the conversation by taking a sip of your soda.

"And why should I do that? It's not like you know him anyway," Luke replied coolly.

A cracked-up laugh escaped your lips as you nearly spluttered your drink on the floor.

" I — I really wish I didn't, but ... you know" —you shrugged your shoulders— "we live in a small world."

Luke set the glass on the floor and placed his hands on his legs.

"You know that guy?"

"He's my psychology professor," you stated and took a quick sip as if you needed to remember who he was to you. You didn't dare to look at Luke, out of fear, he might—

"And when were you planning on telling me this?" he shouted in a hushed tone, and out of rage, accidentally kicked the glass with his foot. It was so loud that you were sure that even Ms. Rey, who was still in the bathroom, heard it.

"I was about to inform you the last time I was here, but your cigarette break was more important," you shot back.

Abruptly he stood up, crawled under the chair to take the glass, and put it in the sink without saying anything further. He walked a little unbalanced, gathering the empty bottles and crumpled napkins from the stand tables. His rage and soon drunkenness that had clouded his face cleared as he placed the empty bottles on the counter.

The door of the bathroom slammed shut, and your gaze immediately shifted to the left side. Ms. Rey walked out from the corner, drying her face off with a paper towel. Despite the rouge that vanished away, her black mascara was still visible on the lashes.

"Ms. Rey, are you okay? Do you need anything?" you asked her considerately in a worried tone.

She approached the counter and gazed at you. With the bright eyes of an optimist, you waited for an honest answer. She sipped the last remains of the water and made a refreshing sound.

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking," she peeped with a bride smile on her face as if nothing happened.

However, through the eyes where the pain was noticeable the most, you knew that she lied.

Luke stood there half-drunk, nearly tripping at her feet as he rested his left elbow on the counter. She lifted her chin and looked into his eyes without saying anything.

"It's been a while," she said.

Luke nodded. "I never thought that after all those years, you would still be that little girl with the three small bumps on her head," he recited in a heart-warming tone with his blue eyes that began to radiate.

Ms. Rey started to chuckle and deeply gasped at Luke's weird way of greeting her.

"And you've decided to grow out your hair! The grey on your beard is showing off with the brown. It really suits you," she responded merrily, gesturing with her finger around her chin.

Luke rolled his eyes at her with lips pressed together while dabbing on her shoulder with his bionic hand.

"It's good to see you again, kid."

Ms. Rey nodded with a tiny smile, her eyes seeing in him the same man who had a completely different reaction towards the man who stood beside her.

"Thank you again for the drink. I think I better keep going. I don't want to miss the game," she noted and began to walk towards the entry door of the sports hall.

You smoothly parted your lips to call out to her one last time, like you always recounted at the moment someone was about to disappear. She briefly turned around and approached you.

You hopelessly wanted to understand the meaning of a word that swam in your brain before she would go into that crowded room.

"Before you went to the bathroom, you called Professor Ren ... Ben," you narrated to remember with crinkled eyes.

She opened her mouth, the memory drifting back into her mind. Her wrinkles appeared on her forehead as a huffed breath escaped her throat.

"I used to call him like that. It was kind of a nick—"

Luke's aggrieved clearing of his throat interrupted her sentence.

"Alright, c'mon, Rey, go watch the game and let the kid do her work," Luke declared in a definite tone.

And just like he wanted, she stepped away and walked into the sports hall.

Now you knew that Professor Ren's nickname that Rey gave him was Ben, and he despised it. Original. Almost like Ben Ten. Only just Ben Ren.

Luke observed the room like he would see the building for the first time while taping with his fingers on the counter. He whistled in enjoyment while you tried to wash the glasses with one hand, which was more challenging than you thought it was. Why does Luke always interrupt everyone when they're talking?

"It's alright, Granny. I see how you struggle with your injured hand to clean. Your mother phoned me and told me everything. I'll do the rest, go watch the game," he stated as he walked behind the bar.

You stopped and propped your hands on each side of the sink, hanging your head over it. Your eyes admired how the sink slowly filled up with water and soap. Of course, she had phoned him. Your mother had to somehow make sure that you were with people she knew who could keep an eye on you and confirm that you were with them. Your injured hand started to feel like something was swelling in it. Or maybe it was not in your hand but in your entire body. Like you were about to enter a room full of balloons, who tried to squish you. The only problem was that you could not burst them. Did that mean she didn't fully trust Qi'ra either?

"Please tell me what's going on with you and Professor Ren, or else I'm not leaving," you demanded in a serious tone.

"Well—" he picked up the box of beers and placed it in the corner. "You don't have to know everything. Especially not things about my past."

"You almost killed Professor Ren with your stare. What would have happened if I had walked behind Ms. Rey and left you two alone?"

"I have no idea what bullshit crap is currently running through your head, but absolutely nothing would happen," he quipped in his gravy tone.

Luke grabbed the empty bottles from the counter and placed them in the sink. It wasn't as if the sink was already full of empty glasses. Your patience with bottles and washing them was already over the edge, and Luke throwing even more bottles into the sink did not make you feel any better.

"Did you leave his mom all alone when you found out she was pregnant with your child, and now he hates you for that? Or did you throw up on his shoes when you were drunk?" you continued guessing until you would land on the right answer.

"Amazing. Every word of what you just said was wrong," Luke answered listlessly.

He took a deep breath as if he was planning on blowing up a balloon and looked over the shoulder to make sure the two of you were alone. Things Qi'ra definitely didn't do to avoid being overheard.

"I will so regret this," he commented to himself in a muffled tone.

You turned off the tap and looked at him with absolute attentiveness, curious of the story he was about to tell.

He glanced away from your eyes that sparked pure curiosity out of it as if they made him feel uncomfortable. He looked into the far distance as if time would take him back, and he would watch his own movie and judge his scene with an epic song playing in the background.

"Long before you learned the alphabet, I had failed ... as a basketball coach ... and as an uncle ... and I let it out on a frightened boy, who already felt like being stuck in the wrong life."

"Cool! And now we're the ones who are frightened of him. Oh, how the tables have turned." You instantly gave Luke a witty remark.

He narrowed his gaze at you, purple bags that looked like hell under his eyes. He looked at you the same way Professor Ren did. As if his patience with you was on the border. Like uncle, like nephew.

"Sorry, that was pretty stupid of me," you apologized, your eyes sinking with shame into your sockets.

If Luke was an uncle, then he had a sibling whom he never mentioned before. But then again, he never revealed anything about himself. Telling his story to you, a teenager with an installed camera in your room and an injured hand, was a big step for him. And just like you made a big step on accepting Qi'ra being now a half part-time babysitter for you, Luke did by sharing his personal life.

In the time when you first got to know Luke, you were convinced that the sports arena was his home because he was always the last to close the hall, and no one knew where exactly he lived. He was like a chameleon who adapted to the environment. He was good at hiding himself from the outside world.

Luke slowly sat down on the chair like an old man rethinking his life choices and mistakes with a muffled groan as he rubbed his palm on his leg.

"If it makes you feel any better, he doesn't like me either," you added to light up the mood.

"Can't imagine why."

You laughed slightly and looked at the sink again.

The way Luke greeted his nephew was strange and didn't quite match what he told you, but it was a small part. And who knows, maybe Luke was just trying to protect Professor Ren so it wouldn't look like his nephew was the only bad guy in this situation. He might even have done it on purpose so you wouldn't think worse of your professor. After all, you are the one who must tolerate him until July.

Luke was a good person. No matter what exactly happened to him and Professor Ren, you didn't want to drag him any further into his memory. You imagined him feeling guilty, and taking him back to the time that he would rather forget would only hurt him more. He admitted that he was not a good uncle and not a good basketball coach, which meant he realized his mistake and had now changed. And that was a great thing to do. How else could he ever grow into the man he was now?

"I appreciate that you opened up to me about your family. Really. I understand that it's not easy for you, and you'd rather bury it deep inside of a place that nobody would find. But I'm here for you whenever you feel like talking to someone," you said with a large smile and a kind tone so he would feel welcomed at any time.

"I feel better now. Thanks, kid," he responded in a friendly and relaxed tone, almost like it was the truth.

Your mood within yourself began to blossom, and you noticed so did his as well.

"If you don't mind, I'd like my hand to rest a little and ... also watch the game."

Luke gave you a silent nod of approval by pointing his head toward the sports hall.

You thanked him, and as you walked towards the door, you heard Luke's voice over again, shouting behind you.

"Just leave the stupid hat at the bar! You're here at a basketball game and not in a coven!"

On the spot, you let out a loud and probably overdramatic sight as you rolled your eyes. You turned around with a defeated and tired facial expression that almost fell to the floor. You wandered back like a zombie, hung your hat on the chair that Luke was still sitting on, and headed to the planned destination.

* * *

"If the Pirates, gonna 'in... hic..., I 'ave to drink... to fo-get this embar ... embar-rasse ... you 'now what I mean."

"Luke, you're drinking even though the Resistance has already won," you stated in a clear and precise tone.

With your hands folded over your chest, you sighted in deep annoyance as you watched how Luke fought not to fell on the floor while sitting on a chair. This is what happens when you leave Luke alone with alcohol.

"I'm on-ly din-king to celeb-ate! Ga-nny, let a man hasta la vita!"

You preferred sober Luke over Luke with alcohol in his blood, and in your surroundings, you believed that everyone did. He always found a new way of embarrassing himself and couldn't even speak correctly.

After one and a half long hours, the Resistance won a fair game against the Pirates. 85-76.

This time you were fully concentrated on the game, eyes fixed on the bouncing basketball flying through the hall. You didn't bother to look up Ms. Rey nor Professor Ren. You were so invested in the game that you forgot you were here with Qi'ra.

"You 'now Rer-ey ... 'as my ... hic... favorite basketballer," Luke continued with his nonsense.

"Oh, does that mean you were her coach when she played basketball as a teen?" you asked him as you stepped closer.

Luke's head was hanging on his shoulder, eyes battling to stay open.

"Yes ... yes ... batter than ... hic... emo boy."

You let out a short, muffled laugh, imagining that by the emo boy, he surely meant Professor Ren. You thought of what he was like as a teenager. It was understandable that he chose to play basketball. He was definitely a benefit for the team with such a height. At least he spoke well of Ms. Rey.

"Oh, I'm sure Ms. Rey kicked butts during basketball."

You took the empty vodka bottle and put it in the trash can. As you were about to ask Luke where to go with the box of the beer bottles that he just pushed into the corner, you noticed he had fallen asleep on the chair.

"You've gotta be kidding me," you breathed.

You tried to pat him on the shoulder to wake him up, but even whispering didn't help. He only nuzzled something through his lips

and continued to drift away in his dreams.

There were still some people talking at the standing tables, and they didn't pay any regard to you. Thank God. A drunk man falling asleep on his chair at work would not come over as a good image.

The sound of heels brought your attention to the stairs from which Qi'ra and Lando were coming down arm in arm. Covering Luke with a blanket was your first thought so that they would not see him in such an embarrassing condition. You ran into the storeroom, took a thin white blanket you sometimes used when you had to go with Luke to the cold basement, and covered him with it. The idea was stupid, and you knew that they would notice it right away, but maybe Luke would wake up during that time? Probably not.

"I see you're doing a great job," Qi'ra noted as she approached the counter with Lando.

You stepped in front of Luke behind the bar so they wouldn't notice him right away and spread the widest smile that nearly reached your eyes.

"Yes, of course, I mean ... who else could do the job?" you burst and scratched your arm.

While Qi'ra didn't seem to suspect anything, Lando gazed around the room.

"You know where Luke is?" he asked sincerely.

"Ah ... Luke — ehm, I'm not sure ... though ... I'm pretty sure he's upstairs smoking by the door," you lied, cracking up between the sentences.

"He's not there, we just came from outside," Lando mentioned.

Your heart started beating like a pumping machine, and your eyes distended. You pressed your lips together and tried to explain with your hand gestures that you had no idea where Luke was. Without the intention, you hit your injured hand on the counter and grunted in pain.

"You are by far the worst liar I've ever met," Qi'ra ridiculed.

She placed one hand at her waist, the other on the counter, looking straight through you. One of her brows rose up, and she shook her head. Her smirk on her dark red lipstick was hard not to notice, and yet you had no idea why you felt bad that she exposed you so openly.

"What's that—" Lando entered behind the bar and pulled off the blanket. A drunken Luke, who had now at least changed his head position, slept there like a bear in winter.

Suddenly you found yourself staring at the beautiful ceiling. You glanced back at Lando and acted all surprised as he stared at you with big eyes that showed the whites.

"Oh, there he is! You found him!" you marveled as you walked over to Luke and leaned yourself on the wall with folded arms.

If MS Mojo made a video of the top ten worst actors of the twenty-first century, you would definitely come in at number one.

"Well, dear Qi'ra, I suppose you won't get to meet Luke today," Lando said in a disappointed tone and tossed the blanket on the floor.

He placed both hands on his waist and let a deep sight out, shaking his head in bafflement.

"Oh wow! I'm surprised you have no idea who Luke is," you jested and curved your brows.

She moved her eyes upwards and started to walk around in a circle.

"What are we going to do now?" you asked Lando, wondering how to still work like this with Luke for an entire hour.

"Well, certainly, we can't let Luke leave like this around other people. Imma take him with me to my place, and I guess you just close the bar earlier," Lando suggested. "It's not like there are so many people still here."

Luke still had his eyes closed and was mumbling something.

"Yoo-hoo Qi'ra, help me to bring this sleepy bear to my car," Lando breathed as he attempted to settle his head under Luke's arm to pick him up.

Without help, Luke couldn't stand on his own two feet, so Qi'ra came from the other side and helped Lando. With Luke's arms encircled by their necks, they dragged him up the stairs without letting him fall.

"Buddy, you really need to stop drinking, or next time I'll drag you to rehab," Lando commented on the stairs through his muffled breathing.

* * *

Going home earlier meant that you could briefly read through your psychology course. Since you apparently had a test, you knew you could not afford to get another bad mark.

Even though you only worked with one hand for tonight, you found it easier to clean up the bar, and in the end, it even went faster.

You stood in the doorway of the storeroom with your back turned to the counter. You put on your hat and observed the organized boxes. You were proud of yourself for having put everything away neatly and tidily within ten minutes. You closed the door and were just about to lock it when you heard someone behind you lean on the counter and clear their throat.

"Give me a bottle of water," demanded a dark, familiar voice.

You spun around and saw no one else except your professor standing behind the counter with a five-euro bill in his hand. His tired eyes watched you the way a tiger watched a bunny. Hungry. Or as, in this context, thirsty.

"Sorry, I can't. I just put everything away," you said in a normal polite tone.

Professor Ren looked with confusion at his rich, metallic watch as his eyes shot back to you.

"According to my time, the bar should still remain open for 50 minutes," he stated.

He jutted his chin and pressed his lips together. The tone in his voice did not sound pleasant.

"Yeah, we had to close earlier," you answered.

"Is it so hard to give me just a bottle of water?"

You knew that sometimes you would come across people who would arrive on purpose at the last moment when you were about to close the bar. They would start to argue, with you, that you should give them a quick last drink, although you stated multiple times that you can't because you are closed. But you didn't expect your psychology professor to be one of those people who seemed to have a problem understanding this. When you say, it's all closed, that they won't get another drink.

"As I said, I closed the cash register, and I can't take the money," you stated this time in a still respectful tone that was just a bit louder.

"Oh, if that's the problem, why don't you give me a free drink as you did for Ms. Rey?"

You narrowed your eyes, squeezing your hand in a fist, and placed it on your lips. If you could, you would bite in it out of the anger and annoyance that this motherfucker gave you.

"I don't think it's necessary in your case. After all, you have so much money that you could buy the whole sports arena," you replied sharply.

"Listen to me, you stu-"

"Ready to go?" Ms. Rey interrupted Professor Ren's sentence full of fury as he clenched his five-euro bill in his fest.

As if out of nowhere, he let out a heavy breath, wet his lips, and straightened up.

"Sure! I would just prefer to moisten my mouth," he commented with a hint.

If he had said please, you probably would have given him the bottle, but since such a word did not exist in his vocabulary, it was not worth the effort.

4-3 for the injured teenager. That's what you get for being a Karen.

* * *

Tiredly you walked upstairs, Ms. Rey and Professor Ren following you. As you lifted your head, you recognized Qi'ra leaning all alone by the entrance door.

"There you are. I've been waiting for you," she said and swung her bangs to one side.

"Sorry, someone was holding me up."

You turned around to face Professor Ren, who walked straight behind you. Ms. Rey stopped with flashing eyes as she stepped forward, close to you and Qi'ra.

"I'm supposed you're the mother! It's nice to meet you," Ms. Rey smiled and stretched out her hand to Qi'ra.

The only thing Qi'ra did in reverse was giving her a questionable look with a scattered smile and ignoring the handshake.

"No, it's apparently ... the ... aunt," Professor Ren revealed, stepping up closer, pronouncing the words before Qi'ra could catch her breath.

Ms. Rey excused herself, took one move back, and gazed at Professor Ren. He studied Qi'ra with a predator’s unwavering attention and shoved his hands in his pants pockets.

"Ah yes ... the man from the hospital," Qi'ra recalled with a mysterious Mona Lisa smile.

Her eyes glinted to him upwards and then back to Ms. Rey.

"Are you here on a date?" she inquired. The tone in her voice said everything beyond that Qi'ra knew the answer.

"Yes."

"No."

Before Professor Ren could process what Ms. Rey said at the same time, they glanced at each other awkwardly.

"No?" Professor Ren repeated, lightly more shyly. This time his words seemed to be painted like his face already was.

Your brain was literally begging for your mouth to giggle. It's like your brain wanted to harm you because you knew if you did, and Professor Ren noticed, he would kill you. And even Qi'ra could not protect you from him the way she did at McDonald's.

Professor Ren and Ms. Rey stood there, close together, and their mouths opened and closed. You couldn't hear what they were saying. Or maybe you didn't want to. It was like a silence that was loudly drilling in your ears. However, it was not coming from Professor Ren's side but rather from Ms. Rey. She expressed a lot of emotions and hand gestures. Professor Ren, however, did not. He just stood there and listened to her.

You only noticed that Qi'ra was staring at you the whole time when she tapped your arm. Her facial expressions allowed her to react the exact way you thought.

"Alright, I think we should go home right now," Qi'ra declared in a whisper to you.

You looked up at her as she started to count from three. At zero, you both turned at the same time and left through the door. Once outside in the dark cold and like always rainy night, you walked quickly to the car. You were both breathing heavily, and you didn't even know why.

"You know how to light a fire," you commented and took your hat off. You rested your head back on the headrest and touched your cheek, which was moist from the rain yet glowing.

"It would be better if I knew how to extinguish the fire," she chuckled.

You looked out the window and noticed how Mrs. Rey and Professor Ren's argument started to play outside.

"Qi'ra look!"

It was hard to see something in the darkness, so with puckered eyes, you tried to recognize Professor Ren and Ms. Rey standing outside of the arena. She yelled at him one last time, got into a taxi, and drove away. It looked like Professor Ren just got doomed on his 'date' from Ms. Rey, and at that moment, you didn't know if you should be happy and say out loud "Karma Bitch" or just ignore it.

Professor Ren was left standing in the rain. His clothes were all soaked, and his hair stuck to his face. He looked like a poor dog who had just been abandoned to survive in the cold all alone by himself. You knew he would survive, and so did he. Then why would you suddenly feel sorry for him when he clearly did not feel sorry for you on your injured hand and at your bad mark?

 _Don't you dare feel pity for your professor, Granny_ , you repeated all over again in your head.

Don't. You. Dare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I'm not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing that I hate Kylo right now. Especially because of this chapter!  
> \- I think I overreacted with Luke's drunk sentences ...  
> \- And no, I did not just discover dots and have now a slight obsession with them ... not at all ...
> 
> I want to thank every single of you who leaves a comment. Honestly, you people are the best! You keep me motivated to continue writing and, I seriously can't thank you enough<3 You people are so beautiful, and I absolutely adore you!
> 
> For the celebration that I have reached 10 chapters *WOW in Owen Wilson's voice* I would be more than glad to hear what you think about "The Hate Between Us" (and yes, I promise, this title will stay this way). 
> 
> What do you think about [Y/N]? How do you think this story will go on? What are your expectations? I'm open to all critics! 
> 
> I would love to see how you, readers, see this story through your eyes. I know it only has 10 chapters by now, it goes extremely slow, and the beginning is one of the hardest parts to get over it, but there probably won't be any chapter in the future that will have less than 6,000 words in it. Please, if you would be so nice, and spare some free time of yours, don't be shy, write a comment ;) 
> 
> May the force be with you<3

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to the beautiful authors and their magnificent works (who are one of my all-time favorites, and I recommend reading them all)
> 
> \- Hurt me Harder by trisswrites (WP & AO3)  
> \- The Heartbreak Prince by diasterisms (AO3)  
> \- These Violent Delights by (WP: luna-auctor) (AO3: Lunaxxx)
> 
> Their pieces of literature all inspired and encouraged me to create my story.


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